


How Many Miles to Avalon?

by RavenOutlander



Series: Mists of Avalon [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emma isn't the Dark One, F/F, He defends his Mama, Henry's a good boy, Hook and Robin are in this, If you like Hook/ Hood then don't read this, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Fullmetal Alchemist, Just so that our girls can end those chapters in their lives, LOTS of violence, Light One Emma, Lots of sappy gay girl nonsense, Not a Crossover, She's a Light One, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenOutlander/pseuds/RavenOutlander
Summary: Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Series: Mists of Avalon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059767
Comments: 24
Kudos: 73





	1. To Challenge the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This year has been pretty difficult for me as it had been for everyone else. I couldn't find it in myself to write a drop or post anything that I had already written. I was going to post this work for the Swan Queen Supernova, but dropped out because of my personal life. I couldn't finish it in between everything, but now I finally did.
> 
> I created some of my own artwork. I've never photoshopped or done anything like this in my entire life, so constructive criticism is welcomed. I have a few pieces, so I think I'll post one or two of those before posting the story and then I'll post the rest in the middle and the end.

Come and yell at me at HolyCipherKid


	2. Emma's Wanted Poster




	3. Be Thou For the People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains content that may be upsetting for some readers. Reader discretion is advised as the chapter contains elements of attempted rape.
> 
> My first chapter guys! Enjoy!
> 
> I owe my Beta reading to Eliam. They really helped alot.
> 
> If your reading this, then shout out to you my friend. Hope you're doing well.

* * *

****

_Et lux in tenebris lucet et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt_

****

_The **light** shines in the **darkness** , and the **darkness** did not comprehend it_

****

* * *

Six months.

That was how long it took for Regina to finally, _finally_ , open a portal. She was exhausted, her magical containers drained and her body sore from her lack of sleep, but she did it. Fairy dust, the Black Fairy’s wand, and Zelena’s stubborn naivety granted them the opportunity of following Emma, their only beacon her soft, plush baby blanket.

Because the dagger was gone.

It had dropped on the road, shrouded in a blinding white light before gradually morphing into a beautiful, white sword. It had Emma’s name on it, embroidered in glowing blue letters, the weapon clattering against the tar with a resounding echo. The same sword that was now strapped to Regina’s side, giving her hope.

Emma wasn’t the Dark One.

The light inside her somehow defeated the darkness.

At least, that was what Regina and the others told themselves. Emma didn’t die protecting them from themselves, yet again. She _couldn’t_ die because Regina wasn’t strong enough to raise Henry alone. Because Regina wasn’t strong enough for a world without her in it.

But, unfortunately, while Regina’s plan was just to take a selective few in Granny’s diner, only those strictly necessary, she ended up with a few dead weights, too. The dwarves. Nuisances in her side since the beginning of time itself. Though she couldn’t much care about them while Emma’s fate was on the line. She needed to focus all her time and energy on finding the woman.

So, as useless as they were, they were the perfect victims to stick with babysitting duty along with Granny.

And that was just what she did.

Emma had ended up in Camelot, and from Regina’s location spell, she couldn’t be far.

As exhausted as she was and annoyed with the others, they made their way to the nearest village. They would need supplies, at the very least a map to give them a general idea of their surroundings.

Once there, they split off into two groups, David, Mary Margaret, and Hook in one for the supplies, and she, Henry, and Robin in the other. She didn’t need to express how thankful she was to be granted a moment’s reprieve from the pirate’s company. A minute more, and she would be contemplating murder. Perhaps she would even follow through with it.

The task and the very fact that they were finally doing something worthwhile, finally looking for Emma, filled her with immense relief. It kept her busy and her mind away from the guilt she had been feeling since that night. Since Emma had taken up the darkness to protect her.

Neither Henry nor Robin said much.

Not that Regina could blame them.

Henry vibrated in anticipation, as restless as she was to bring Emma home, to finally be reunited with her. He was walking with renewed energy, his eyes darting around in hopes of spotting Emma amongst the villagers. He’d reached over and taken her hand in his, squeezing every time he thought he saw something, but only to realize it had been nothing at all.

She and Robin hadn’t seen much of each other over the past few months. She had been consumed by the obsession of finding Emma, of making her family whole again, and he had been occupied by Zelena and her every whimsical need that didn’t even have anything to do with the baby.

They were taking a break.

And Robin was understandably upset.

They headed into a tavern, the loud abrasive chaos of the establishment and the alcohol freely passed around the patrons caused Regina to pull Henry closer to her side, holding him as close as she could without appearing overprotective. He didn’t mind when someone knocked another into one of the tables, the man lying so still you’d assume he was dead.

“He’s resting,” Regina assured when he shot her a panicked look.

They didn’t have much to go on, but they asked around as best they could, inquiring the more respectable looking characters if they had seen a blonde woman anywhere. Unfortunately, most of their responses happened to be crude remarks of the blonde women they had swindled the evening prior, well into the morning.

“Oh, this is a waste of time,” Regina snapped after the fifth person to respond with a suggestive remark. “We’re not going to find her like this. None of these dullards have seen her.”

“Perhaps, but that is no reason to give up hope.” Robin placed a hand on her shoulder, supportive and steady. It made her skin crawl, and she couldn’t possibly understand why. “Your spell led us here, yes?”

“Unfortunately, but I highly doubt that—”

“You can’t dismiss this establishment simply because you’re frustrated and have a disliking towards the fellows that dwell here.” Robin tried to smile affectionately, but the next sentence from his mouth, hissed with quiet agitation, snuffed out any hope for it at all. “If Emma passed through here, then I am confident that someone must have seen her. She has the tendency to stand out.”

“You can say that again.” Regina frowned as she turned to Henry. “Look.”

He was pointing towards a notice board in the middle of the tavern, wanted posters plastered over it so that the surface of it was unrecognizable. With attentiveness, the trio approached cautiously, and Regina reached out to rip one of the posters.

**WANTED**

**EMMA SWAN**

**For crimes against the King:**

**MURDER,**

**TREASON,**

**TREACHERY**

****

It was an illustration of Emma, capturing her likeness. Regina clicked her tongue.

“Emma,” she sighed. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Mom.” Henry looked so hesitant, so scared, and so small. She could see the little boy he had been, five or so, as he tiptoed into her room, explaining through sobs that he couldn’t sleep because of a nightmare he’d had. “You don’t think Ma did any of that stuff, do you?”

“Of course not,” she assured, because Emma _wouldn’t_. There wasn’t even a moment of doubt in her mind. She might be stubborn and uncouth, perhaps a little short tempered – _a lot_ short tempered – but Emma wasn’t a murderer. “This must be some sort of a misunderstanding.”

“Perhaps falsely accused is more likely.” Robin scowled as he grabbed the poster. “King Arthur could perhaps be a decent fellow, I’ve never had the pleasure, but the noblemen around him certainly aren’t. Look at the stamp, it’s a seal from the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

“The Sheriff of Nottingham?” A perplexed look passed over Henry’s features. “Didn’t he come along with the first curse and then the second? I remember because Ma arrested Grandpa Rumple that second time for his assault.”

“I don’t recall this.” Regina placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “How come no one told me of this?”

“You and Ma weren’t talking.” He shrugged, looking down at the ground, then uncertainly up at Robin. “It was back when you two were fighting about…”

Guilt coiled in Regina’s stomach, more overwhelming now that it had a firm foundation. She couldn’t even begin to fathom why she had taken her anger out on Emma, why she had pushed and pushed the woman as far as she did and nearly ended up losing her because of her poor coping mechanisms.

“Right,” Robin interjected, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Well, the Sheriff isn’t just any one man. It’s a position – a corrupt one at that. Emma must have done something to upset him, the most likely being gracious enough to offer a piece of bread to a street urchin or a few coins to the elderly.”

“Or she would be foolish enough to pickpocket the man for the thrill of it. I’m still not certain if she has ever gotten over that thieving phase of hers.” Regina began folding the poster and then shoved it into the back pocket of her pantsuit. “We’re not going to get any answers by debating about it. Let’s regroup with the others.”

Just as they were about to depart, screams echoed outside of the tavern, the commotion drawing the attention of the entire tavern. The music stopped and the sound of galloping horses filled their ears. In a frenzied rush, people began to storm out of the tavern, leaving them no choice but the be pushed along unless they wanted to be trampled.

Outside, they could see knights dressed in the white and red crusader’s uniforms, proudly bearing the name of their King and kingdom as they kept the people surrounding them at bay. They pushed to the front, trying to see what was going on, but couldn’t get passed the line of oath sworn bigots. The men and women pushed them back, telling them to let the law run its course.

Regina’s eye caught onto David and she led the others to where the rest of their group stood stock still. “What on earth is going on?”

“I have no idea,” he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders hopelessly. “One minute we were talking to the blacksmith, and the next thing we knew there was shouting. We left to see what the commotion was and saw them dragging a young woman behind a horse.”

“Those barbarians,” she hissed, clenching her jaw. “What could she have done to warrant such behavior?”

A blood-boiling scream stole the breath from Regina’s lungs and Henry barreled into her side. She looked down at him in concern, watching a quiet horror settle over him as he looked out to where the knights have the woman bound. She was on her knees, uncapable of movement, as one of the men walked in front of her.

“This here, kind and gentle folk, is a traitor to King and country!” The man snarled as he spoke, his voice deep and strident, calling out above the restless crowd. It drew the people’s attention to him, a quiet murmur filling the air as they watched him cautiously. Apprehensively. “She aided the fugitive Emma Swan in escaping law enforcers. She is condemned by his majesty, King Arthur the first, to be put to death. Let it be known that she is made of an example here today and that those who aid the traitor will be bestowed upon the same fate!”

The woman, defiant and unyielding, looked the man directly in the eyes as he approached. “I’d rather be a traitorous dog than serve a man with no dignity! Your king has no honor! No courage! The Savior will put an end to his reign! This I swear to—”

The sword swung swiftly, and Regina pulled Henry into her neck, covering his ears as best she could. She winced at the hollowed thud that followed.

“Let this be lesson to all of you who dare defy your sovereign and who aid the False Liberator Emma Swan!”

* * *

They left the village as quickly and as quietly as they possibly could, careful not to be followed. Once they were certain they were safe, Regina transported them back to the diner to regroup and settle in for the night that lay ahead.

The night without Emma.

None of them said much upon their return, and while the others were curious about what they had learned, none of them said much when Regina threatened to set Grumpy on fire the moment he stepped towards them, the question clear in his eyes. They simply allowed them entry, their group splitting off in different directions.

David and Mary Margaret tended to Neal and his needs, this fussiness speaking volumes for their absence.

Robin moved along with Roland on his hip and Zelena complaining in his ear about how he could have let Regina drag her along on the trip. Momentarily, Regina blamed her sister’s pregnancy hormones and the fact that she was seven months along for the sake of her own sanity.

Killian claimed the urge of needing fresh air and took off into the woods, and Regina couldn’t particularly bring herself to care for his health or worry that he would do something idiotic. She had enough to worry about already and didn’t need babysitting duty on top of everything else.

Henry moodily joined Belle in a corner booth, allowing her to provide what comfort she could in the books they had recently begun to pour over. Books from the Old Land. A welcome distraction for both.

The dwarves, steering clear of Regina and her not-so-empty threats, headed to help Granny with kitchen maintenance. When they had arrived, she had assured them that the back-up generator was just fine, but a few of the fryers had blown up when they had switched them on. Regina would leave the fast-food equipment to the experts.

She on the other hand, opted for a moment in the sunlight, watching as Hook stomped off like a petulant child. It was a moment to clear her head, a moment to process what had just happened and what their next plan would be. She pressed a hand to her forehead – when had it begun to shake? She swallowed thickly, feeling the bile rising into her throat.

Ten years.

Ten years of horrific, blood bathing massacres and the thought of Emma… The thought of Emma on her knees, a sword raised above her head as it prepared to swing, left her a shaking, trembling mess of a human being.

She saw it, as that man declared to all that Emma Swan was someone unloved and unwanted in their kingdom, she saw the woman kneeling there, unyielding, and unwavering as death stared her in the face.

Then she saw how it ended.

Blood. So much blood.

Emma’s blood.

All their love, all which they had been fighting for, for years, gone in an instant.

Gods above, what had Emma gotten herself into this time? What could possibly justify such a horrific act?

This couldn’t be happening. It had only been _six months_. They had fought with every fiber of their being to get to that point, to go after Emma, to finally see a glimpse of her safe return, and now there was this big, fat elephant blocking their end goal. Surely, Emma couldn’t have undergone such a catastrophic change in that time? She was still the same Emma; she was still their Emma; she was still _her_ Emma.

Regina stopped in her tracks.

She’d walked off with no particular direction in mind – hadn’t even bothered to tell the others she had left like Killian. In a direction opposite of his. Now, she hesitated, halfway between somewhere and nowhere. There was a tickle on the back of her neck. Unpleasant. Unwanted. Hair on end.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Something was horribly wrong.

Where were the birds?

A shiver ran through her. Crawling up her spine, slithering like a snake.

She was one of the few individuals in all the realms she could call an expert in magic. It wasn’t that she was arrogant. Arrogance was the last thing that she could be accused of. Regina was good at what she did. So, she could feel it. There was magic in the air. It hummed through the forest. Buzzing like a beehive and sending shockwave after shockwave through her body.

There was something there in the forest with her; she wasn’t alone.

And of course, _of course_ that was when Henry called out to her. Her sweet little boy that was worried about her, that had grandparents who couldn’t keep an eye on him longer than a few damn seconds because they were too occupied. Too _fucking_ enthralled in their own little world to watch him more carefully.

But, ultimately, she was projecting. She should have told him. Should have told him that she needed a few minutes alone. That she needed that time to herself to clear her mind. She should have _told him_.

“Mom?” his voice carried out towards her, reaching for her like magic. It curled around her, ringing in her mind as she whirled to see him about a yard away. “Mom?”

She reached out a hand towards him, holding it out in warning. “Henry, stay there! Stay there, I’ll come to you!”

Even if she couldn’t see his facial expression, she knew he frowned with worry, but he was a good son. He listened to her. He wouldn’t disobey her. Especially when she sounded so worried. So _frightened_.

She quickened her pace, not in a sprint, but in a desperate speed walk, praying and hoping that whatever was watching her – _them_ – hadn’t yet caught onto her awareness of their presence. Alone, she could handle anything thrown at her. But she _wasn’t_ alone. This was Henry. This was her son.

Regina was close now. So close. She could now see the outline of his deep and frightened expression, his hand stretched out towards her, desperate for her to take it and curl their fingers together. If she had him, if she had him in her arms, she could teleport them back to the diner. Whatever was stalking them would or wouldn’t follow, but there would be strength in numbers. There was safety in it.

Just a few more steps.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

She jerked to a sudden stop, her fingers brushing his. He was frozen, too. Staring at her with a fear she hadn’t seen since Neverland. A fear she hadn’t seen since she sat him down and explained to him that a swirling vortex had swallowed his other mother. A fear she hadn’t seen since every time she had come home, telling him how spectacularly she had failed at opening a portal to find Emma.

“H – Henry,” she rasped out, his eyes snapping to hers, wide and haunted. The question, “ _Are you okay?”_ swam through her mind, flashed through her eyes, and she just thought about how he was her little boy. Her little prince.

“I – I’m okay.” Then, he looked up, passed her shoulder, into the forest, and choked out. “M – Mom.”

She didn’t need to know that whoever or whatever had been watching them was lurking somewhere behind her, vulnerable to whichever attack it would bestow upon her. She could feel it in her body, shaking in her bones. An involuntary gasp escaped her, her throat thick, a lump forming there. The look in Henry’s eyes made her shiver and the feeling that radiated from the person, the being, the _creature_ made her knees quake.

It was directly behind her now. The magical energy under the surface pierced through hers. Invasive. Intrusive. _Penetrating_ her skin and crawling until it buried deep enough that she wouldn’t be able to cut it out.

It possessed power.

_Unfathomable_ power. More than her. More than Rumpelstiltskin. More than anyone she had encountered before. It flowed from it like water from a fountain, as if it had an endless supply of it. More than enough to spare. It pulsated like a heartbeat. Beating and beating and _beating_ into her.

Blood ran down from her nose, over her lip and into her mouth.

“Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time.” It whispered against her ear, breath foul and hot against her neck.

She knew that voice.

_Gods_ , she recognized that voice.

She began shaking in fear. _Quivering_ like a child because this _wasn’t happening._ This _couldn’t be happening_ , because he was dead, and she was alive and safe, and he _couldn’t_ hurt her anymore. Couldn’t touch her anymore. He was gone and she had moved on and made amends for the things she had done in the wake of his death. She was the _good guy_ , now. She was the _hero_. Why was this _happening_?

He toyed with her hair, sniffing it, pulling on it. “It’s been so long since I’ve laid eyes on you my Queen.” Then, he was reaching around her, his hand creeping up, up, _up_ until it grasped around her breast, yanking on it roughly. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched you my Queen.”

Henry’s face was the epitome of rage. She’d never seen him so angry before. So angry, angry, _angry._ He looked so much like Emma. So much like his mother in that moment that she almost smiled. Almost _smiled_ because she wasn’t alone. Wasn’t alone in this vile man’s presence. She almost _fucking_ smiled.

Almost.

“You fucking bastard!” he bellowed, spitting fire into his voice. He looked strained, like he was trying to free himself from the spell placed over him. “Don’t you fucking _touch her_!”

Regina closed her eyes, willing the tears away. She had to be strong in the face of this new threat. If she wasn’t, then gods knew how this was going to affect Henry. He would always remember this day and be forever scarred of the fact that he couldn’t do _anything_. That he couldn’t protect her from whatever the man wished to do to her.

“Well, now, he’s a little hellion, isn’t he?” His voice was the finest silk, honeyed even as he pawed at her like she belonged to him. “Maybe he should _watch_ to understand the consequences of disrespecting your elders, hmm?”

“Go. To. Hell.”

He whirled her around, grasping her by her hair and pulling. She bit the inside of her cheek, piercing the skin to keep herself from crying out in pain. Forcing her down on her knees, he invaded her personal space. He leaned over, his face wrinkling in rage.

This wasn’t the Leopold she remembered. He had been old and withered, overweight and constantly overindulging in the riches of his kingdom. The man in front of her was as fit as an ox, his raven hair lacking even a sliver of silver, his skin pale and colder than she remembered.

The Leopold that haunted the deepest, darkest reaches of her mind at least had the decency for false pretenses. There had been a façade, a mask that he had worn in the presence of company. This one had none such a front. There was only the coldness, the power – sheer raw power – that pulsated off him.

He wasn’t human – couldn’t possibly be human. His eyes were sharp. A black abyss. Piercing. Beastly. They stripped her bare. Claiming her. Looking over her like she was his possession. His plaything. One the side of his face, his skin cracked, dark magic oozing into the air.

“I see this world’s version of myself made the mistake of allowing you to stray too far from him. He should have shortened your leash. Prevented you from growing so opiniated.” He glanced over at Henry, watching the hammering rise and fall of the boy’s chest. “He should never have allowed you to have a child. A foundling, no less. Disgraceful.”

A wave of darkness began to lick up her spine. Splitting her open. Invading her. Forcing its way to her body and leaving her gasping for a reprieve. Then his lips were on hers, as foul and as vile as she remembered, shoving his tongue into the mouth. His hand was now at her side, gripping the sword there and unsheathing it. She could only watch in horror as he pulled away, holding the blade out in front of him.

“You’ve brought me a gift.” Pleased. Satisfied. His eyes trailed along the shimmering blade, tracing the lettering with great intent. “You don’t know how much this means to me, my dear.”

Before Regina could capture his meaning, he set the blade aside, forcing her down into the grass. She caught the look in Henry’s eyes, the sheer horror there, completely unable to do anything other than watch as it happened.

Leopold’s hand returned to her breast, fondling it, toying with it, but then it slipped into her suit and tore a gap into the material as he settled between her legs. With a ripping sound, her brassiere gave way and she choked back a sob.

No matter how hard she fought, how hard she begged and pleaded, she couldn’t access even a drop of her magic. It was like having a gun, but no bullets. A scabbard, but no sword. It slipped through her grasp, uselessly hanging in the air, incapable of breaking through the thickness of Leopold’s magic.

“M – Mom!” Henry gasped; his voice strained. She could hear the fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, a futile huff escaping him as he fought against the spell and attempted to throw himself at Leopold. “No! Get away from her! Don’t hurt her!”

“Henry,” she forced out when Leopold pulled away, her voice as calm as she could manage, but still wavering. “Henry, close your eyes. Close your eyes, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Henry was sobbing now, taking big and angry breaths. She could hear his struggle, _see_ it, and how utterly torturous each moment of watching that man – his own blood – treat his mother with so little respect was. Watching as he took something from her simply because he was stronger and faster and more powerful. Simply because he felt entitled to it.

Regina screwed her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks against her wishes. She thought of Emma – of a kind smile, of her sea green eyes, of rough, caring calloused hands. Gods, how she wished she could find them. Hoped blindly that she would be able to do something. Selfishly thought that she would be able to protect them.

Then, by some miracle, Leopold’s movements stilled. He froze, pulled away from Regina’s breasts and looked wildly into every direction, eyes searching. “I wondered how long it would take to bait her out of the hovel she’d crawled into. I could sense her – you reek of her magic.”

She blinked through her tears, words failing her. A rasped sound escaped her as she exhaled in relief, sniffling pathetically in her gratitude for whomever the man was referring to. Behind her, Henry did the same, even as he continued to cry, afraid and uncertain what to do next. Trying and failing to break free from Leopold’s grip and reach out towards her.

Another magical presence alerted the arrival of the woman Leopold had referred, too. It washed over her like clean water, cleansing from the tainted, toxic black magic crawling under her skin. She could feel it wiping away her tears with a breeze, a kind and protective hand pressing against her cheek. Henry must have felt it too because he gasped. This person’s magical presence was so overwhelming, so welcoming, that it could be experienced by those even untrained in the arts.

“Emma,” she whispered, the name like a prayer leaving her lips. It was Emma, arriving as if she had been summoned by Regina’s thoughts. As if she knew they were in distress and had come as quickly as she could.

There was a crack, lightning sizzling through the air in the blink of an eye, electrifying every particle in the atmosphere. Leopold’s hair, though long and pulled back into a ponytail, stood on end, and he turned just in time for the magic to crack against his chest. He sailed through the air, barreling through trees. Splinters threw in whichever direction, large chunks of wood ricocheting off other trunks, other trees falling over, or uprooted entirely.

A plume of white smoke and Regina laughed, wholly and fully as Emma appeared in front of them now, kneeling at her side with the most concerned frown she had ever seen. She looked so much like a smaller Henry in that moment, the resemblance uncanny. Regina could feel the weight of Leopold’s power removed, replaced only by the soft, guiding touch of Emma’s white magic.

Regina could kiss her.

Emma helped Regina off the ground, immediately slipping off the thick, red leather cloak she had been wearing. Beneath it, a white, linen shirt, black leather trousers, and a pair of thick leather boots. Her right arm, from the beginning of her wrist was covered in a white strip, covering her skin. Her hands were enveloped by two pristine gloves. Out of the corner of her eye, Regina could see a silver pocket watch as it glinted in the sunlight.

She looked up tentatively, respectfully, asking permission to continue. As if she needed any.

Breathing out another sigh, she nodded her head. “Thank you, Emma.”

The blonde didn’t hesitate to cover her, helping her into the long, comfortable sleeves and easily closing the buttons with nimble fingers.

Emma wore gloves now. She couldn’t even wear gloves during the winters, complaining that they were too constricting. Even when her fingers turned pale and blue all at once, because _“Who the hell fires their service weapon with knitted mittens from their mother, Regina?”_

Her hands moved quickly, like she had been doing it for years, and then she was pulling them off the ground, reaching over and yanking Henry and Regina flush together, into a warm and tight embrace.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” she said, breathing into Regina’s hair, a hand snaking into Henry’s. It felt like she was going to say more, or more like Regina expected her to offer up an excuse, a reason to justify her lateness, but she left it at that. As if she was the one at fault and there was no excuse to justify it. She pulled back, smiling weakly. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine, Emma,” she rasped out, pulling away to see her, to catch a glimpse of the woman she hadn’t seen in months. “Better than fine.”

“Yeah,” Henry added. Quiet. Reserved. A lie to hide the torment inside of him – the torment of what he had just witnessed. Then, with clarity and determination in his voice, “Thank you, Ma.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Now, go.”

Regina’s eyes widened. “W – What?”

“Go. Now.” The order was fierce. No room for any argument that was already on the tip of her tongue. “I’ll hold him off, long enough for the two of you to head back to the others. I won’t be far behind.”

“Emma, we can’t just—” 

But their time was up.

The magic, dark and grimy, that they had been reprieved of for less than a minute returned with purpose. It was like a raging storm on the precipice of destruction, barrelling towards them, trying to regain the control it had lost.

But Emma stood firm. Tall. Unyielding. She reached down, lifting her sword off the ground, tightening her grip on the hilt. Her magic grew just by that single touch, the celestial steal glowing faintly. It fended off the power play and she turned, unflinching as she faced off against Leopold that stood somewhat a distance from them. She clenched her jaw, watching him stalk towards them, a maniacal and sickly grin spread out across his mouth. Teeth sharp and monstrous.

She was the only thing between them. The only defense standing against such raw power. Regina wouldn’t be able to last a second against whomever this imposter, wearing the face of her dead husband, was.

“Emma,” she breathed, voice tight and tremulous, fear traveling up and down her spine. Another whispered prayer. A plea.

Stretching out a gloved hand, she motioned for them to stay behind her, not to move. The only response they were going to receive as she squared off against their foe.

Leopold barely even had a scratch on him. Not even a bruise. A few stray hairs had fallen out of place, but other than that and the sawdust covering his black, royal garbs, he was unaffected by the powerful spell Emma had used against him.

“I was beginning to wonder, _gwaredwr_ ,” Leopold said, smiling as he pushed a few locks of hair out of his eyes. “You’ve been hiding away, like a little bunny rabbit cowering in your hovel. I thought your self-perseverance would have won-out and you’d give up on your foolishness, but a part of me relishes that you’re going to participate after all.”

Regina could see the way Emma’s shoulders tensed, her head tilting slightly towards them to make certain they were still safely tucked behind her.

“I am not participating; there is no prize to be won here.” The response was crisp. Boiling. There was something more there, something in her voice that Regina didn’t understand.

But it bubbled with such fierce protectiveness, such fervor that Regina’s knees nearly quaked for an altogether different reason.

“She does not belong to you. She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“In time, she will accept her fate. It would be easier if you would just step aside and let things run its course.”

“What’s he talking about?” Henry whispered, grabbing her arm, and squeezing. “What does he mean by that?”

Regina hushed him.

“This is not a game, _Eirdsidh_ ,” Emma spat. “Retreat your armies, leave this world, because you are not the bringer of death here.”

Leopold laughed and it cut through Regina’s skin. It was cruel and hollow. Their suffering, their fear, _amused_ him. “You cannot stop the hunt, little swan. It is inevitable. The only detail that will matter is whom shall claim their rightful place among the gods,” he turned his head, eyes landing on Regina and trailing down, down, smiling as he watched her, “and the bride at their side.”

Oh, gods.

No, no, no, no, _no_.

She bit her tongue. _Hard_. Blood pooling into her mouth. She didn’t understand; she didn’t _want_ to understand. Leopold was a demon of her past she had overcome, a pathetic old relic that couldn’t possibly bring about her anymore harm. But here, this pseudo version of him, outclassed her in every aspect like she hadn’t spent years and years training under the great Dark One himself.

And he wanted to cage her. _Again_. He wanted to possess her. Use her. Like she was nothing more than the common whore he picked up off the streets. Something to spread her legs for him.

Emma took a step back so that they were now pressing up against her. A reassurance. A promise that she would protect them. That no harm would befall either of them while under her protection. She kept her arm stretched out, prepared for whatever attack Leopold would send their way.

“She is not a prize to be won, or a woman to be conquered,” she repeated. Firm. Steady. Then, she added with the cockiness Regina always associated with her. “Find another pawn for your games, you dickhead. Call it a day, because if you come near her, I’ll kick your ass.”

It was such an Emma response, and Regina nearly sobbed in her joy.

An eerie silence settled in the air. Slowly, so slowly, the smile on Leopold’s face faded, settling into a blank, cold stare. He and Emma stared one another down, sizing up the other as their magical power leaked out, pushing and pulling, testing and feeling. They breathed as one, waiting.

And then they lunged.

Leopold drew a dark, black sword from the depths of a pocket dimension, magic that Regina had only ever heard of in theory. Emma brought her sword up, wielding it as if it had been made for her by the gods themselves. When they collided, blade upon blade, sparks flew, lighting cracked into the air and struck the ground, the bark of a tree, a branch. It released a shockwave that nearly blew Henry and Regina off their feet.

Emma threw her head towards them, ensuing the battle of dominance. ‘Go!’ she bellowed above the hissing and snapping. “Go now! Don’t stop!”

Regina gave a desperate shove against Henry, urging him into movement. “Go!” Another bolt of lightning cracked, and they had to duck to avoid being struck. “Run, Henry!”


	4. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains implications of past sexual abuse. There is also great depiction of violence. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the kudos and the lovely comments. Initially I was going to post two chapters a week, but then when I read through Cshields' comment (thanks for that by the way, I love long comments. They fill me with happiness) I realized that I missed a major plot point. So at this stage I'm fixing it and I'm nearly done with closing the last few plotholes, too. But that means that I need the week before posting another chapter to make sure I didn't miss anything, and in between work and my responsibilities at home it's been a little harder than I thought.

* * *

It was chaos.

Complete, utter chaos.

_Eirdsidh_ ’s magic was scalding, the type of power that turned flesh completely rotten and left mold on anything fresh it touched. And Emma barely held her own against it.

Lightning cracked, sparking into the air around them and shooting in whichever direction. It took a chunk out of a tree, splinters flying onto the ground. It took a crater out of the Earth, nearly causing Henry to trip over it has he scrambled across roots and wet leaved. Every now and then she could see them duck as a surge of magic nearly took their heads off.

Glowing white, light blue.

Black. Boiling tar black.

Emma wasn’t an idiot. She knew she didn’t stand a chance against the entitled prick. Less so with Henry and Regina a chance of suffering collateral damage. She couldn’t give the fight every ounce of her magic because she was constantly reaching out towards them. Towards her family. Deflecting a stray and unintentional attack or surging it forward to give them the surge of energy they needed when they grew tired, or when Henry (bless his clumsy nature) tripped over his boots’ laces.

She and Regina needed to give the kid a talk about the importance of appearance. As if he didn’t get the speech every day of his life before Regina sent him out the door and into the world.

Unfortunately, _Eirdsidh_ was more skilled than her, too. He had years of experience on her and she had just started to learn the true art of magic. Only now did she understand the dedication behind it. The sacrifice. She was certain that if she weren’t a prodigy, making up with potential and strength for what she lacked in teaching, they all would have been done for.

Henry and Regina just needed to keep going. If they were out of the way, the bastard would lose interest.

Because Emma wasn’t his target; he wanted Regina.

_Eirdsidh_ released a furious roar, frustrated with her. He never did like it when she managed to remain ahead of him, dancing around him even when she was on the defense, even when she was protecting something behind her.

He sent a blast her way, a small and tedious little thing, but she made the mistake of daring to peek at the others, ensuring that they hadn’t yet stopped, that they kept on running. If they kept moving, if they could get farther and farther from him and his plans, they would be safe. Emma didn’t care what happened to herself because they were all that mattered. All that would ever matter.

She was too slow, bringing her defense up a moment too late.

The blast connected with her chest and sending a ripple effect through her body. It blew up, exploding upon impact and sending her soaring with an ethereal, resonating thunder. It left her winded, her chest singing in pain and her ears ringing. Mid-air, she recovered, landing harmlessly on the forest floor, allowing her magic to guide her there. But the singeing attack left her reeling. She coughed, blood spilling from her mouth, his magic rejected by her own. She didn’t have much time to contemplate the fact that she had likely just coughed up her left lung, because _Eirdsidh_ advanced.

A bolt of lightning barreled towards her, too fast for her conscious mind to catch up, but she blindly reached out and caught it in her hands. The electricity that travelled up her arms caused her to clench her jaw in pain, tightening her grip on it. She collected it in her right hand and then hauled her arm back to crack the lightning like a whip.

She struck the ground by his feet, then the tree next to his head, then hurtled the bolt back towards, fueling it with her own magic. It travelled at an unescapable speed, but _Eirdsidh_ disappeared in a plume of black smoke and the bolt split a tree in half instead. It splintered, running up to the very top before it erupted in a rain of dust and wooden slivers.

_Eirdsidh_ appeared behind her, ready to strike her down with his blade, prepared to stab her in the back like the coward he was, but she had been anticipating the move. The second the smoke surrounding him settled and he swung the sword, she side-stepped and brought her arm up to block the attack. She winced as his blade collided against it, taking a step back to steady herself before pushing back against him with all her might.

But she hadn’t accounted for the shadow blade he drew from thin air, jabbing it into her side. Once. Twice. She howled in pain, taking a quick step back and healing the injury with a quick touch of her free hand. It bought him the time to deliver another blow, another crack of magic that sent her crashing through trees and skidding across the ground, bouncing like a pebble being thrown on a clear, ripple-less dam. A sharp cry echoed through the forest when he struck again, jolts of black lightning sent directly into her spine.

Her eyes glowed as she scrambled off the ground, fists raised and prepared to parry blow for blow, but she was exhausted, and her magical containers were running low. He was too fast, too prepared, and she made the mistake of letting her footwork lag. In a flash, he was on her, grabbing her right hand as she hurled it forward. The rocks that had lifted from the ground, prepared to hail down on him like a hailstorm tumbled uselessly to the ground, and _Eirdsidh_ sent a surge of magic into her arm.

She growled, blindly swinging her arm up until it struck him on the side of his jaw. He staggered and Emma swung again, brutishly, and furiously with the fist he had released, but he swung out of the away in time for the blade attached to it to harmlessly pass his head. Though, it wasn’t enough to get in another strike. Emma kept coming. Kept pushing. Swung again and again.

And again.

And again.

Sweat dripped down her brow and her muscles ached from overexertion, and even if it were enough to keep _Eirdsidh_ on the defense, she knew it couldn’t go on forever. She had landed a single hit, enough for a dark blotch to appear on his jawline, but an artificial nuisance. If she wanted it to end, then she was going to have to get in a few more noteworthy blows.

“Enough of this!” _Eirdsidh_ spat, irritated by her very existence. He parried another blow, grabbing and twisting her arm before releasing her and taking a step back.

With a wave of his hand, the shadows began to move. They snaked towards Emma and only when they began to grab onto her legs, twisting around her arms, sticking like oil against her cheeks, did she realize she had made a mistake. The hands, the _fucking_ hands, forced her down onto her knees.

“Now, _this_ is a familiar sight, isn’t it? Why I remember it like yesterday – you on your knees, powerless against me.” His hand trailed through his hair, parting the knotted locks as he exhaled. “Now, if you’ll allow the moment of a _civil_ conversation.”

“There’s nothing civil about you, _Eirdsidh_ ,” she hissed, straining against her bonds. “You’re crazy if you think I’m just going to hand her over to you.”

“Ah, love – such a fickle little thing, hmm? Do you honestly believe she, a Queen, would choose you over me?” Amusement sparked behind his eyes and he gripped her by her chin. “You’re _nothing_ compared to me, my dear. A relic of the old ways – of a time when little children would _wish upon a star_ and the only monsters were the ones hiding under their bed. You can’t get in the way of the prophecies, _gwaredwr_.”

“This isn’t about what I believe, you twisted, sick bastard. This is about what she chooses. And that _isn’t_ you or whatever bullshit that quack Merlin spun in that tower of his.”

“Oh, she’ll come around.” A twisted smirk graced his lips, and he leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “Why, I remember the version of her in my world to be quite perceptive. So, willing, and eager. Such a shame she let that foolish daughter of mine turn her against me. They both had to pay the price for their transgressions then.”

Emma shuddered, the rage bubbling inside of her, her body screaming and willing her to move. She worked her jaw, a fierceness in her eyes that left him bemused rather than frightened. When she broke free from the spell, she was going to fucking _kill him_.

“I cannot wait to see what this one is capable of. She has quite the filthy mouth on her—”

She couldn’t listen to another word from his mouth. Tilting her head back, she headbutted him. Hard. Drawing blood from their foreheads. He scowled, touching the wound there and took a step back, stretching his hand out towards her. She could feel the magic forming there before she saw the sizzling sparks of black, and she released a surge of magic. It coiled in her stomach, like a star seconds away from going supernova, imploding on itself, and it sent a shockwave barreling towards him.

The arms wrapped around her crumbled and eviscerated at the burst of power, freeing her from her prison. On the side of her face, magic crackled, the skin tearing off there as her eyes set ablaze in a white, blue light. She slapped _Eirdsidh_ ’s hand away in the same movement she grabbed him by the front of his unitard (because that was what he was wearing, and no one could convince her otherwise) and pulled him into another painful collision. And again. And again.

Because she wasn’t going to stop.

She wasn’t going to stop until he lay lifeless on the ground. Harmless and as far away from Regina as possible. No more of a threat than the leaves that fell from the trees or the wind that blew through her hair.

But even in his delirious state, _Eirdsidh_ had the chance of gaining the upper hand.

He finally wrenched her hand away, bringing his sword up to strike. She leapt back, but the blade sliced through the air, cutting though her vest and the skin beneath it. If she hadn’t reacted so quickly, a scratch was the last thing she needed to worry about.

The blood poured out of the wound, staining her leather attire, and causing the material to stick as it spread. She scowled but didn’t have the time for any discomfort to find her because _Eirdsidh_ was already preparing to bring the sword down on her again. She raised her right arm, prepared to take the full-frontal assault, but it never came.

She was gone.

And an all too familiar feeling settled in her stomach as the hue of purple smoke cleared.

She reappeared in the distance, stumbling and momentarily disoriented. Regina stood next to her, eyes darting between her, her injuries and _Eirdsidh_ that stood in the distance, still trying to comprehend why his sword hadn’t just cleaved her arm in half.

A part of her wanted to be furious because Regina ignored her request and had now carelessly placed herself in harm’s way. But she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it for long. It had been so long since she had felt that familiar hum underneath her skin, soothing her own magic. It had been so long that she couldn’t quite remember how it felt to be in Regina’s company, to have her looking at her with such care and worry.

She glanced back towards her opponent, and he seemed to have caught on. He turned, facing towards them. She could feel Regina tensing next to her, her body rigid and stiff, her magic hitching, but she didn’t let the woman dwell on that fear for too long.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Safe.” Clipped. Curt.

“Regina. _Where’s_ Henry?”

Regina tore her gaze from _Eirdsidh_ and caught the look in her eye. She swallowed thickly and her eyes moved towards the forest behind them. Emma couldn’t see to where she was looking, but she sent out a pulse towards him, feeling his energy field reaching back out towards hers.

He was huddled against one of the trees, hiding in shrubberies as he pressed his hands against his ears. It had probably been Regina’s request, because she didn’t know if they were going to make it out of the situation and didn’t want him to hear anything that would leave him more traumatized than he already was.

Emma reached towards her, molding against Regina’s back. She brought her arm up in a firm and steady hold, splaying her cool, feelingless fingers across her abdomen. There was a tug in her stomach, a small twist as her magic exploded underneath her skin.

She brought her other hand up to where she could see _Eirdsidh_ raging, putting on a burst of speed to prevent them from making an escape, and flipped him off. It would be ingrained in his memory for as long as he fucking lived, and she grinned proudly at that knowledge. Then, with a surge of magical energy, a cloud of white smoke engulfed them.

* * *

She saw her injuries as a victory because she would take a split lip and a blackeye over whatever that bastard had planned for Regina.

Emma had gotten surprisingly good at hiding her magical signature over the past few months, so she easily reassured Regina they could take a small, insignificant timeout as they made their way back to the group. The sun was already inches away from touching the horizon, and while she knew that it was an awful idea to travel at night, she also knew they didn’t have a choice. As soon as they reached wherever the others had made camp, they were going to have to leave.

She didn’t doubt that she had efficiently hidden their magical trail for the time being, because otherwise she would have been maimed and then promptly decapitated months ago, but a big group like she expected them to be would be more difficult, and she was already exhausted after her fight.

The satchel she travelled with, the one she left behind the moment she’d realized Henry and Regina was in distress, was exactly where she left it. Or more like tossed it aside with as little care as possible. It would explain why there was a strange liquid dripping out of it, mixing, and lighting up like a rainbow.

Yeah, she wasn’t going to give Regina the chance to scold her for her recklessness any more than she was sure to fire off about the list of injuries.

She waved her hand, clearing the goop in an instant, hoping that the small flurry of her power hadn’t just doomed them all.

Now that the adrenaline had faded, she could feel the exhaustion setting in. There was a dull ache in her side from where _Eirdsidh_ had slipped the shadow blade between her ribs and the wound on her chest wasn’t fairing any better. She would have to take a potion to counteract the effects of the cursed weapon. On her temple, she didn’t need a mirror to know that the skin was cut there, but the satisfying remembrance of slamming her forehead against that bastard’s made it worth it. Her left eye was black and swollen, but mildly so. She could still see out of it, which was a win to her.

The list was as long as Regina was pissed, but she was alive, and Henry and Regina were safe.

She kneeled on the ground as she reached for her saddlebag, ruffling through her things, but exhaustion had already begun to set in, so her movements were sloppy, unfocused. The bandages slip out of her grasp more than a few times, enough for Regina to leave Henry’s embrace from where they were seated on a fallen log and began aiding her. She muttered something about Emma being ridiculous and suicidal, but there was no bite in her voice.

Regina had never been one for small talk, she knew, but there was tension in the air and Emma could tell was desperate for answers.

“How’d you find us?” she asked, determinedly not looking at Emma. She looked adorably stubborn, drowning in that red coat. “We’ve been searching for you for the better part of the day, and yet you seemed to know exactly where we were the moment trouble arose.”

Emma shrugged, unsure herself. She had been heading off to follow up on a lead she had found in a book. Not anything concrete and simply an old myth about a village that seemed intriguing. But she had been in tuned on any magical shifts of great significance. Partly because she was on the run and the rest because she held onto hope that they were looking for her. If Regina and her magic were a needle in a haystack, she would find her in less than a second.

“I was passing through, and that’s when I felt your distress. I knew you were in trouble. And then I… then I could feel his presence, and I knew I had to get to you.”

“Who was he?” Henry asked, speaking in a tone that demanded an answer. Timidness and fear erased from his voice.

Regina tensed and to protect herself from what had happened, from what Henry had seen, opened her mouth to reprimand him for the way he had spoken to Emma. But now wasn’t the time to shy away. If Regina let whatever she was feeling fester, she was only going to hurt herself and Henry more than they already were.

Emma rested her left hand on Regina’s elbow, squeezing it softly and cutting off the retort on the tip of her tongue. Instantly, her jaw slammed shut and her head snapped to look at Emma, eyes wide and fearful as if the blonde could read her thoughts and the haunting emotions she felt.

Pausing, she waited and waited, and even as Henry grew impatient, brewing the anger he had inside of him, the anger towards the man that dared lay a finger on his mother, she stared and patiently searched for the permission to continue. The permission to tell their son the truth. A truth she had known since she had found out that fairy tales were real and became the savior of a town filled with a bunch of ungrateful psychotic dumbasses but had been too much of a coward to acknowledge.

Regina swallowed, then nodded.

“He’s your great-grandfather, my grandfather from another universe.” She looked over at Henry and watched as his eyes widened with horror. “One where he became the Dark One.”

“You referred to him as _Eirdsidh_.” Her voice was soft, guarded. “Why?”

“It’s elven – roughly translates to otherworldly, I think.” Emma winced as Regina touched her bruised cheek, testing to see if the injury needed any immediate treatment. She shot her an apologetic look, as if it were her own fault that she couldn’t use her magic to heal the wound. “But you already know that.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “But I’m surprised that you do. Since when have you been an expert on the Elven language?”

“Hey, I listen when you teach me stuff.” The attempt at levity earned her a soft, weighted chuckle. Henry even cracked a small, barely-there smile. She grinned, relieved at the sight. “Okay, I’m a horrible student, sue me.”

“My dear, you are an atrocious pupil.” Regina corrected, but she was still smiling, hands moving from Emma’s face towards her leather vest. “Now, let’s take a look at that cut.”

“In front of the kid?” Emma scoffed, offering the most shit-eating grin she could find in her arsenal. “I don’t think he wants to see me without my shirt, Regina.”

Henry scrunched up his nose and glared at her. “I didn’t need that image in my mind.”

Her grin widened and she feigned injury when Regina slapped her shoulder. She couldn’t feel sorry when they looked so much better now. So much like themselves. Like she remembered them from their last family dinner where bad things like _Eirdsidh_ and his douche-ness couldn’t get to them.

But the humor faded as Regina dropped a little of the disinfected potion she found in Emma’s satchel onto a cloth and began to reach inside the tear of the leather. She pressed it against the cut, which had been stinging, radiating with dark magical energy a moment earlier. Emma could already feel the effects of the potion seep into her skin and expel _Eirdsidh_ ’s dark magic.

“Why was he after me?” she asked, brow furrowed as she worked. “Because I looked like the wife he’d had in his world?”

“No.” Emma clenched her jaw, then her fists, face darting away. “He’s after you because of some fucking prophecy.”

“Prophecy? What kind of a prophecy?”

“I have no idea, but the gist of it involves a Dark One finding a bride with the potential of the purest of light magic and the darkest of black magic.”

“Lovely,” Regina spat, throat hissing violently, looking very much like a wounded lioness. Hurt. Frustrated. _Dangerous_. “So, according to fate I’m to be nothing but another whore for the pleasures of another?”

Emma reached for her elbow again. “Regina – the kid.”

As if just realizing what she had just said, her eyes widened in horror and she looked up to where Henry was looking at her, eyes widened and filling with tears. But then he wiped the expression off his face, and for a second, one awful second, Emma could see the abject terror flash in her eyes. Like Henry was going to be upset with her.

“Henry—” she began, setting the cloth aside, preparing to say something, anything, that somehow would make it better.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said. “You’re not marrying anyone if you don’t want to.”

The statement was so simple, so easy, and truthful. There was determination in his voice, and a glance back at him proved what she already knew; he was a stubborn fucker if she ever saw one. That was definitely her fault. A part of it was all Regina. But that expression, that glint in his eyes, was Emma _fucking_ Swan.

Regina smiled, watery and filled with such relief, and when did her little boy grow into such a fine young man? When did he become so understanding? Where did her learn not to push something when there was already enough pain, even when there was no doubt in their minds that he was confused?

Because with Snow White for a grandmother, he sure as fuck didn’t learn it from her.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” she reassured, as if he needed it.

“But it’s not just about you either,” Emma sighed, shaking her head. “They’re after me, too.”

“He referred to you as _gwaredwr_ – Savior.” Regina nodded looking questioningly into Emma’s eyes. “How does he know who you are?”

“It’s complicated,” Emma answered, scrunching her nose in annoyance. “I don’t really know all of the details – why they want you specifically, why they’re after me, what their end goal is – I don’t know any of it. What I do know is that they’re not going to stop until they get what they want. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen what’s going on in the villages nearby?”

A silence lapsed between them, tension swimming in the air like a sickness and threatening to choke them.

Then, Regina spoke, “How do you know _any_ of this?”

“I’ve been busy.” Emma pursed her lips, looking away again. “Come on, we better get a move on. It’s more dangerous to travel at night for obvious reasons, but we need to get out of here before _Eirdsidh_ can find us. Or any of the others.”

She didn’t miss the way Regina closed her eyes, biting her lip. _“There are more?”_

* * *

They brought _Granny’s_.

And Granny.

Hook was logical, and she should have suspected him to be there. He was still technically her boyfriend even when she knew he shouldn’t be. She had known all during that first date, when he barreled over her worries and fears for Regina, when he got irritated whenever she brought up Operation Mongoose, when he couldn’t understand why sex was a sore topic for her and she wanted to wait.

It took all her energy not to scowl when he stepped towards her, ignoring the fact that she was clearly still injured and even looked like shit because of the pain and the drowsiness that the cleansing potions brought with it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Regina’s lip curled into a snarl, looking like she wanted to interfere on her behalf, but something held her back. A brief look of longing, of _something_ flashed in her eyes, too quickly for Emma to grab onto and decipher. But she looked positively pleased when Emma sidestepped Hook, where she had previously been eager for her embrace.

“Cracked ribs,” she explained, not even bothering to keep up the lie as she stepped towards her parents. “I’ve missed you guys.”

David and Snow looked bewildered. Like they wanted to open their mouths and tell her that Killian missed her too and that she should accept that. Accept him. But she knew him. She knew where he went when she denied him and had put up long enough with it because she didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to have her parents worrying about her happiness for the rest of their lives.

Funny how a single trip to Fairy-tale Land for her to come to her senses. Or it was perhaps the few times that _Eirsidh_ had bashed her head in that put things into perspective. She figured that there were some things that she could thank him for – like keeping her from making the biggest mistake in her life.

“We’ve missed _you_ ,” David murmured, cupping the back of her head. “We were so worried.”

“With good reason.” Snow cupped her cheeks, taking stock of the cuts and bruises. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Regina sighed, placing a hand around Henry, pulling him flush against her side. “One we will explain on the way.”

“On the way? On the way to where?”

“We need to get out of here.” Emma pulled away from her mother’s touch and turned to look at the others, watching as their expressions morphed from confusion to worry to fear. “I’ve been getting pretty good at masking magical signatures, but he somehow always manages to find me when I’m in Camelot.”

“Who?” Robin’s brow furrowed. “Who is after you?”

“Technically,” Regina interjected, clenching her jaw. Her anger was a reflex to hide her vulnerability, and Emma didn’t know why she was pleased that the woman could be so soft and herself around her and Henry but couldn’t extend the same curtesy to Robin or anyone else, “he’s after me. _They’re_ after both of us.”

Robin, suddenly, and quite violently, whirled on Emma. “What have you done?”

“What?” Emma gaped, jaw dropping onto the floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, that it is no secret Regina has to constantly put her happiness, her safety at risk for you, and that by extension whomever you’ve manage to anger now is coming after her. So, I ask again, what have you done?”

She looked over towards Regina, who looked as speechless as she did, especially at the venom in Robin’s voice.

Did he just…?

Emma blinked, slowly and sluggishly, certain that the surprise was evident on her face. It was such an uncharacteristic reaction that her mind hit autopilot.

She and Robin had never particularly liked one another. He because she was the Sheriff and he had some unresolved issues there that he needed to work out, and she because… well, because he was Robin. But they had never expressed this. They had come to an unspoken mutual understanding. If they were both going to be in Regina’s life, then they weren’t going to risk the relationship because of their disdain for one another.

But now, he had just shattered that agreement into hundreds of thousands little pieces, and she would be damned if she didn’t give her two cents.

Because who the _fuck_ did he think he was, accusing her of placing Regina in danger? She didn’t have an arm and a leg for protecting the woman, and she would be willing to trade even more of her limbs if it meant she could keep her safe.

Fortunately, even if she might be an idiot, she wasn’t stupid. She knew what Regina needed, and it was not okay for her to lose her cool because of some bum that smelled like pinecones. Even if said bum was begging for his teeth to be knocked in.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna head outside and make sure we weren’t followed here,” she huffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Pack what you need, and _only_ what you can carry. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

She ignored the shocked looks on her family’s faces and could feel annoyance bristling when Hook trailed after her like some lost puppy.

It took her ten minutes to calm down and return to the diner, because Hook kept opening his mouth, trying to make conversation, to make her _talk_ about the last six months, to make her feel guilty that he had been _alone_ and _miserable_ without her, to guilt her for saving Regina. She stayed, ignoring his grievances to contemplate the pros and cons of strangling him and burying him there in the forest.

When she returned, somewhat placated after entertaining several fantasies of socking Hook in the face, or Robin, everyone was packed and ready to go. She wanted to smirk at the fact that Robin looked like a scolded child, pouting slightly as he hoisted Roland on his hip and accepted the suitcase Zelena held out towards him because she couldn’t _lift anything heavy. You know? Because of the pregnancy, Regina._

Emma wanted to sock her in the jaw too.

What ultimately made her smile, was seeing Regina still dressed in her cloak. She had changed into another pantsuit, black and slim, and comfortable, but she had put it back on as if it were the only thing that provided her comfort.

Robin noticed this to.

Thankfully, Henry and Regina had given the group the cliff notes version of what had happened in the forest. Explained that a Dark One from another universe was after them. How Emma had fought and barely made it out alive. How they needed to leave to a place Emma knew was safe. The blonde gathered all of this when Snow turned to her, shouldering her travel bag.

“So, where are we going?” Snow asked, shifting baby Neal from one hip to the other. “I assume you have something in mind?”

“I have a friend that… uh… _found_ me when I first came here,” she vaguely explained, using far too many hand gesturing to be considered relaxed. “She’ll offer us shelter at her castle; it’s where I’ve been when I’m not here in Camelot looking for…”

Emma trailed off. Five minutes with her family and she had already forgotten the reason why they had to leave so abruptly.

Granny wasn’t particularly excited in embarking without the diner, and she wasn’t none too pleased when Emma explained they couldn’t bring it along because: a) they shouldn’t waste magic like that just because of her separation anxiety, and b) _Eirdsidh_ could track them quite easily if she expended such a large quantity of magic.

But, in the end, however, she forcibly grabbed the map out of Emma’s hand and said she had lived near there back when she was still a pup and probably knew the area better than she did anyways.

She was too tired to argue and let the woman lead them into the darkness, the moonlight through the trees and the soft glow of a small, blue flame she had summoned their only source of lighting, guiding them through the darkness.

The dwarves complained at the back of the group, whining about their stubby legs, and naturally Henry and Regina gravitated to where she was walking a few feet away from the group. Still far behind from Granny and her crossbow, but far closer than to the others. She couldn’t deal with Hook’s forlorn, kicked puppy expressions and her parents worried gazes and their confusion as to why she hadn’t yet explained how she wasn’t a Dark One.

“I’m sorry.” Emma looked over to Regina, frowning at her apologetic expression. “For what Robin said. He had no right.”

“Psht.” Emma waved her off. “Water under the bridge. I couldn’t care less about what he thought about me. If he wants to think it’s my fault that our lives are messed up, then that’s his business.”

“Still.” Regina insisted, bristling slightly at the memory of the conversation. “He had no right to say that to you. Not when I could easily have been in your position. I don’t think the darkness would have been so eager to release me.”

Emma didn’t say anything – wouldn’t dare. _Couldn’t_. Her mind drifted to faceless demons and punishments, of stone gateways and hands, so many _fucking_ hands. She could feel her chest constricting, see the shadows moving in the corner of her eyes and that smile, that _sick_ smile, as the moonlight danced in her eyes.

She was shocked when Regina took her hand, her good hand, in hers and squeezed. She looked over and saw the same, soft concern that had been there when she had been dressing her injuries. Emma wanted it there as much as she wanted it to go away.

“Are you all right, Emma?”

She nodded, the lie ready and on the tip of her tongue, sliding off like butter, “Yeah. Perfect, even.”

They lapsed into silence, and Emma didn’t bring up the fact that Regina was still holding her hand.

Because they were drained after a long and tiresome day, emotionally spent, they made camp a few hours before dawn. They’d walked a good distance and Emma made certain that with each step they took it was damn near impossible for _Eirdsidh_ to follow, so she didn’t mind when Grumpy’s foot snagged on a root and he decided that he wasn’t going anywhere until the sun was rising again.

Emma helped David make a fire, then had Belle help her set up several runes around the perimeter of the camp to ward off any unwanted surprises. It wasn’t specifically magic they used, because she made the redhead do it for her, explaining what to do and how to do it without coming near the item she stuffed into her hands. Not only was the stuff potent, and the last thing she needed was unicorn hair triggering weird allergic reactions, but if she made a mistake and accidently leaked their whereabouts, she wasn’t too sure if she would make it out alive.

Any of them.

When they returned, David and Snow had started a fire, those who had hogged tents were inside, content and relaxed, while the others snuggled into their bedrolls and ready for a good few hours of sleep.

Granny looked offended that no one seemed interested in food, not after the day they had had, but she got over it by dragging her bedroll a few feet in the distance away from camp. As if freezing to death would prove some kind of a point.

Regina, however, did make Henry eat an apple and a few grapes, just to line his stomach, and Emma pretended not to see him grab the Apollo bar from his backpack and stuff the whole thing in his mouth when Regina turned her attention towards her. She seemed enamored with the idea that Emma was going to sleep beside them, as if she couldn’t allow her out of her sight just yet.

Emma couldn’t blame her. Not after what had happened.

So, she wordlessly settled onto the bedroll that Regina had took the liberty of positioning next her and Henry, wanting a piece of Emma and Henry, and let her limbs squeak in protest as she settled. She was going to have to tend it at some point, ensure that it wouldn’t suddenly fail her during a fight.

“Gods,” she exhaled, closing her eyes as she rolled her neck. “What a day.”

“One that I don’t ever want to relive,” Regina added, steeling her features. “What matters is that we’re safe. That Henry is safe.” She looked at her then, a fierceness in her brown eyes that Emma couldn’t quite yet decipher, even after all that time. “That you’re safe.”

“I’m fine, Regina.” She kept her tone light, careful not to allow any annoyance to slip in. Because Regina had been through enough that day. “Really. I promise. It’s only a few scratches.”

“A papercut is a scratch, my dear. You took a beating, plain and simple, and you took it for me.” She reached over and took Emma’s hand again, squeezing it. They never touched before, barely the occasional hug, and Emma couldn’t fathom why, because it felt right, and she felt whole. “I couldn’t even begin to thank you for what you did for me and Henry today, Emma. The words escape me.”

“No thanks needed. Not for doing what’s my job.”

“You didn’t do what you did out of some savior complex, Emma,” Regina said, looking away, sad, and shy, unable to understand why she had even saved her at all. “I’d like to say that I understand why you would quite literally throw yourself in front of that vile beast for me, but—”

“I didn’t say I protected you because I’m the Savior, Regina. I said I protected you because it’s my job. It’s my job to protect you and Henry.”

She looked over to where Robin, Zelena and Roland had settled for the evening. He looked entirely too cozy with the redhead to be called Regina’s soulmate, but he was glaring at Emma. It seemed their childish and _silent_ feud just turned into a measurement of egos.

Good.

She needed a hobby.

She wasn’t going to let it affect her relationship with Regina, but she wasn’t going to let him walk over her either.

“No matter what, it’s _my_ job.” Emma hissed the words fiercely and tightened her grip on Regina’s hand. “No one’s gonna touch either of you. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Regina looked like she wanted to say something. Perhaps express her gratitude in a coupling of beautifully crafted words, but Henry rolled over in his bedroll and looked over at them.

“Mom, can you hold me? It’s a little hard to fall asleep.” He looked so small then, and Emma wondered if he had Regina wrapped around his finger less or more as a toddler, because she was still whipped. She didn’t even bother answering because she was already scooting down into her bag, wrapped in Emma’s coat. “Do you think you could sing me a lullaby? Or hum it like, really, _really_ softly? The one you used to sing to me as a kid.”

“I remember, _mijo_.”

It was the first time Emma had ever heard that word of endearment slip passed Regina’s lips, and she wondered how many times she had missed it because her head was in her ass.

She recognized the lullaby because she went through a particularly weird phase of longing for a maternal figure in her life, so the tune of _A la nanita_ came to her easily. Emma smiled as Regina hummed, holding their little boy, and soothing them both into much needed sleep.

Emma watched as the others settled in for the evening, too. No one even thinking about taking shifts, because she had convinced them that the barrier would be the perfect opportunity for them all to gain the sleep they needed for the next day. She should settle in too, because they were safe, and she knew more about magic now than she thought even Regina did. After all, she was so damn exhausted.

But the shadows crept towards her and she saw the hands. Snaking towards her. Tormenting her.

Looking up, she could see Belle staring at her. A knowing look flashing in her stormy blue eyes. As if she knew Emma couldn’t stand the dark. As if she knew that Emma couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were just too much.

She waited until Henry and Regina’s breathing evened out, waited until David and Snow were asleep, too, little Neal squished between them, before she stood up and headed into the forest.


	5. Keeper of Secrets, Maker of Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was intending on posting this yesterday, but we left for the farm a couple of days ago and there was a lot of cattle to be worked on, and to top it off, one of them rammed the headclamp's leaver into my face. So, my pride's a little hurt and so is my damn face, so I wasn't in any mood to post or even write. I've just been sleeping whenever I got the chance to have some time for myself.
> 
> Anyways, happy New Year guys. I hope that you all will have many blessings this year, and that it's better than the shitshow we had last year.

* * *

The soft jerk of Henry’s body next to her drew her from her sleep almost instantly. She remembered it so clearly – the way his body shook whenever he had a nightmare. After Neverland, her boy had woken a few times in a cold sweat. She had it memorized down to the 'T' in case he needed her in the middle of the night.

What was interesting, though, was that Henry never cried – never made a single sound beyond the deep inhale of air. He simply jerked and then he was awake. Henry would precede to dwell in that silence, refusing to say a word even when he knew that she was awake.

Tonight, he brought a hand up, curling it into her hair as she listened to the beat of his heart, and she wondered if he had learned to comfort from her or if it was something that he had gotten from Emma. She closed her eyes, reveling in the way his gentle touch calmed her. It wiped away the remembrance of the gods’ awful day they’d had and cemented her there with him.

She wasn’t back there anymore.

She was with her son, who loved her and cared for her, and would do anything if he could spare her from pain.

Her boy.

When had become such a fine young man?

Groggily, she lifted her head from his chest and glanced around, frowning when she couldn’t find the object of her search.  
  


“She’s not here,” Henry said, voice thick with his sleep. The whispering lilt of his tone lulled her, and despite the urgency to find Emma, her exhaustion won out and she dropped her head back on his chest. “She went off a couple of hours ago – to patrol, I guess. I don’t think she even came back.”

“She’s overwhelmed,” Regina reasoned. “She hasn’t seen any of us in over six months, and suddenly we show up out of the blue and we place this expectation on her to keep us all safe. A lot could have happened in these past months as well. We all still need to catch up with each other’s lives.”

Henry shrugged his shoulders, jostling her a bit. “She used to be like this in New York too – stayed up late, barely ever slept. I think it was the high stress of her job and caring for me, but she’s never really talked to me about it.” He paused, swallowing sickly. “Can… we… talk about what happened today… yesterday?” A grunt escaped him. “Whatever. Can we just talk about what happened? I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Regina tensed, her entire body seizing up.

To say that she was surprised would be a lie. She was actually thankful that Henry wanted to talk about something that bothered him. He rarely ever spoke to her about the things on his mind; he always argued that that was what Archie was for. And since New York, he’d been seeing the man weekly to talk about his trauma from Neverland.

But just because she was thankful that he wanted to open up to her, didn’t mean that she wanted to open up to him. Especially not about something that happened in her past. When it came to that time of her life – the time when Leopold was still alive – Regina would rather pretend that it didn’t happen at all. The less she thought about it, the less she talked about it, the less she wanted to curl into a ball and never get up ever again.

Henry, instantly noticing her distress, hurriedly backtracked, sputtering over his words like a fish gasping for water. “I mean, er, you don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I mean… it’s your stuff… to tell. You don’t… I don’t want to force you to do anything that—”

“Henry,” Regina hushed, placing a tender hand on his chest. She feared that if she looked at him, she might burst into tears, so she refused to push away and find his eyes. Instead, she swallowed thickly until she could trust her voice to speak. “Henry, you aren’t forcing me to do or say anything that I don’t want to.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep the sob in her throat at bay. “Do I want to talk about any of this? No, I don’t think I do, but after what happened… I suppose that we need to.”

Henry nodded his head against hers, plopping a soft kiss in her hair. “Okay,” he said. “You can start whenever you’re ready. I don’t think I could go back to sleep anyways. Everything’s too… messed up inside my head.”

She took another deep breath as her throat closed up. There were times like these when she considered how uncanny the resemblance between Emma and Henry – the way that he wouldn’t push her to reveal anything that she didn’t want to, the way that he wasn’t going to rush her, patiently waiting for her to speak as though he had all the time in the world.

She shouldn’t be considering it. Some things a mother just couldn’t say to their child. But it had been so long since anyone besides Emma asked her if she was okay. If there was something that she needed to talk about. It had been six years since that difficult time right before the curse broke, but for Regina that pain was still as clear as yesterday. To have her boy so clearly interested in her well-being wasn’t something that Regina would risk losing by turning him away.

“I suppose…” Regina began, words caught in her throat. She took a gasping breath and Henry began to rub her back in soothing, circular motions. Like she used to do whenever he was upset. Like she still did. “I suppose I should start from the beginning, then. I’m not going to tell you _everything_. I hope that you understand why.”

There was no hesitation before Henry spoke again.

“I do.” He took a breath, deep and calming as if he as trying to restrain his anger. “You can tell me anything, Mom. I promise that I’m not going to be upset, or angry with you. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

Regina nodded against him, willing away the cry that wanted to spill from her throat. “My marriage to… to your great-grandfather was… it was unwanted. My mother, Cora, accepted on my behalf.”

Henry hummed. He didn’t say anything, but it was just his way of providing supportive feedback. The sound vibrated against her and she appreciated his acknowledgement of her words. It was nice to have someone just listen for once without trying to fix anything.

“It all happened so quickly – one day I was still living in the manor, the next I was living at the castle. It wasn’t all too bad, but…” Regina shook her head. She wasn’t going to sugar-coat it for him. That wasn’t what he wanted from her. He wanted her honesty. That was all he ever wanted from her. “The truth… is…, Henry… Those were the darkest years of my life. I don’t… I don’t ever want to go back there again. Ever. Not only was I alone, but—”

“You don’t have to tell me what he did.” She could feel the way he clenched his jaw, the way that he tightened his grip on her as if she were going to disappear into thin air, or something might happen to her if he didn’t hold her firmly enough. “I know, Mom. I know what he did.”

She couldn’t find the words, so she simply jerked her head up and down in the hopes that he will know what his reassurances meant to her. She took a deep breath before she could find it within herself to continue. “Leopold was a lot older then. Or well, I didn’t know him when he was younger. The man that you saw earlier seems like an entirely different person altogether and yet…”

“And yet, the bastards are the same,” he huffed, then, realizing what he said, tried to backtrack. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to… I mean, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… I got a little overwhelmed there.”

Regina smiled, patting his chest lightly.

“It’s alright, dear. I’ll allow that one this one time.” She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, feeling a few stray tears wet his t-shirt. He resumed his calming strokes, kind enough not to mention her tears. “Seeing him again after so long, and after what he did…” she swallowed thickly. “I guess it just woke a few things in me I would rather forget, and I wished that you never knew about.”

The forest’s quiet echoed through the air, the sound of their party’s snores filling their ears. There was the occasional owl in the distance, crickets chirping merrily into the night. She was thankful that nothing had come across them as they were quite vulnerable in the middle of the forest, but she supposed that the runes that Emma and Belle had rigged in the perimeter of their camp were warding off any unwanted nightly visitors.

When Henry spoke, his voice was soft. Softer than it had been during the entirety of the conversation.

“I’m never going to be able to understand what you went through. Never. So, I’m not going to offer you empty apologies. It’s not going to fix anything. It couldn’t. What I am going to do is promise you that he is never going to ever lay a single hand on you ever again. Not ever. Ma and I are going to make sure of it. You can count on us, Mom.”

Regina looked up to him with a watery smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s a very kind thought.”

“It’s not just a thought,” he said, keeping in mind his tone. Although passionate, there wasn’t any aggressiveness behind it like there used to be whenever they disagreed over something. “I _promise_ you that he’s never going to touch you again. You don’t ever have to go through that again. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” Henry pressed another kiss into her hair. “Emma’s stronger now; she’s going to protect both of us. And I’m never going to let you down again.”

“You’ve never let me down, Henry,” Regina reassured. “I’m proud of you. So, very proud. And you’ve helped me through today in more ways than one. Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Henry said. “I’m always here if you ever need to talk about something, Mom.”

“And I for you, my sweet boy.” Regina sat up for long enough to plop a kiss to his cheek. “Now, get some rest. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

He nodded but then pursed his lips in thought. “Should we see where Ma went before we head back to sleep? I’m kind of getting worried.”

“I would have felt it if she went off too far,” Regina said. “She’s just beyond the treeline. We’ll give her some space tonight and then in the morning I will talk to her. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, good. She doesn’t talk with me about stuff that’s bothering her. You’re the only she’s willing to speak to besides Archie.”

Regina smiled sadly. “I know.”

* * *

The first thing that Regina heard when she came to was hushed voices. She blinked away the sleep, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up. It dawned on her that the hushed voices were not as a result of respecting the ones still asleep, but because the participants in the conversation were trying not to draw anyone’s attention.

_A conversation_ , she scoffed. If one could even call it that. It was so very clearly an argument.

It dawned on her that Emma couldn’t have slept at all, because save for the few wrinkled cresses here and there, it was practically untouched. Still zipped up like she hadn’t even bothered with sleep.

Begrudgingly, Regina rose out of her bedroll, her arms easily slipping out from under Henry and she reached for her shoes, shaking them to ensure nothing had climbed in while she slept. She shivered in disgust when a beetle fell out of one, landed on her bedroll, and then scurried off into the leaves.

She wrapped Emma’s cloak more tightly around her, realizing that she should probably return it at some point, but she couldn’t yet bring herself to part ways with it nor had Emma pushed her in any way to do so, even as her lips turned blue each evening when the cool air settled over their camp and the fire had long since turned to nothing but smoldering ashes. It was what had brought her comfort after that day’s attack and she had yet to feel any semblance of herself again. Emma’s cloak, as cliched as it sounded, gave her strength. It brought her the safety that had been shattered the moment she had heard Leopold’s haunting voice.

It had been three days since they all but fled in the middle of the day, keeping a steady pace ahead of the horde _Eirdsidh_ had very likely sent after them and the men that King Arthur had tasked in finding them. Emma kept them off the main roads, following long forgotten pathways to their destination. She was adamant that they kept moving, that they didn’t stay in one place for more than a few hours of rest.

It was a struggle maneuvering over roots and leaves, her legs wobbly from sleep and the exhaustion that hadn’t yet faded, but she managed to find the source of her disturbance that morning only a short distance from their camp, not too far from the perimeter Belle and Emma had made.

It was Emma and Hook. Arguing.

She had never seen it before, always assuming that they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Starstruck and all that. Though, she hadn’t ever seen Emma turn Hook’s affection away in the past few months since they had begun dating, either. In the last eight hours, she had borne witness to it a solid five times, Emma complaining about cracked ribs that weren’t even bruised.

Hook’s face was the picturesque of fury, stepping into Emma’s personal space as he whispered vile and threatening things. Emma, however, stood there, arms crossed and looking none too pleased with his behavior. She was calm, too calm for Regina’s taste.

And she knew. She knew that eavesdropping was wrong, had told Henry that much over the length of his lifetime, but she reasoned that she was concerned and should just make sure that Emma was okay. She needed to know that Hook wasn’t going to try and hurt her. Not that he could, she reasoned, physically at least. But if Hook brought up anything that could damage Emma emotionally, Regina was going to have to be the one that put her back together again. And she would gladly do so.

“You need me, Swan,” Hook spat, pointing an intrusive finger in her face. “We both know it. No one will love you like I do. No one will ever need you like I do. No one will ever want you like I do. Admit it. Admit it and we can all go home and leave the Queen to deal with what should be her mess in the first place.”

“Do me a favor, Hook, and pull your head out of your ass so you can hear what I’m saying.” Emma snarled back. “This may come as a shock to you, really it will, but my life doesn’t revolve around you and your insecurities.”

“You love me, you said so before you stabbed that damned dagger into the darkness, so I can’t even begin to understand why you would wish to end our courtship. You’re lying to me and you’re lying to yourself.”

“Yeah, I lie to myself about a lot of stuff, but I didn’t rupture an aneurysm and suddenly realize I’m deeply in love with you, Killian. I was pretty sure I was going to fucking die then, so I was telling my _parents_ that I love them. And you don’t understand why I’m ending this because you don’t want to.”

“Love, just open up to me. Put away your damn pride and—” He reached towards her, moving to take her hand in his, but she recoiled away from him.

“I don’t _want_ to open up to you,” she snapped, scowling so harshly that Hook took a step back in fright. “I don’t want to talk about _any_ of it with you or anyone for that matter. And no matter how much you push and push and push, it’s not something I’m _ever_ going to talk about because all that stuff that happened, happened to _me_. Not to you. Not to my parents. It happened to me, and by _talking_ about it, I make it _worse_. For once in your fucking life, Hook, leave it alone.”

“You can’t just expect me not to want to know about your past, love. You can’t expect me to just _leave it alone_. That’s not how a relationship works.”

Emma growled, and clenched her fists at her side. “It’s none of your business anymore, Killian.” She stilled, took a deep breath, and crossed her arm over her chest. “Look, you’re not someone who’s made to be tied down, and I’m someone… who got over her bad boy phase when she got knocked up and sent to prison. I don’t love you like that; I don’t even like you like that. I gave into your… _advances_ because I was alone, and I wanted my parents not to worry that I’d become some crazy cat lady who watches telenovelas and reads lesbian literature by the time she’s forty.”

Regina’s eyes widened.

So did Hook’s.

“Teleno-what?” he asked, like that was the most important part of the conversation.

“That’s… what… you got from all that?” Emma sighed, shaking her head. “Do I need cue cards, or sign language? I’m really trying to stomp over your heart as gently as possible and you’re making it ridiculously impossible not to be an asshole.”

Silence rang between them, and just as Regina thought that the conversation has ended, that Hook had finally seen the light, she realized that weeds didn’t die easily.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

Emma recoiled, completely caught off-guard. Then, she threw her hands in the air, confusion painting her pale skin and rage gleaming in her sea green eyes. “What. Are. You. _Talking about_?!”

“The Queen,” he snarled, speaking the title with so much venom that you’d easily mistake him for an Agrabah viper. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”

That was when Regina saw red. She was bristling in anger, her body shaking with rage and her jaw clenching. She _loathed_ that man. She was disgusted by his very existence. He had no right – _no right_ to think she would ever disrespect Emma in such a way. Emma needed more than fleeting moments of lust and passion.

She _deserved_ more.

Both of them did.

She contemplated marching over there to give Hook a piece of her mind. Perhaps she could summarize just how lowly she thought of the worthless, inapt, sorry son of a–

“Oh. My. _God_.” Emma groaned, covering her eyes with her hands. “You are literally the most fucking stupid person I have _ever_ met, and I used to hunt down bounties with the brain capacity of a chihuahua. It doesn’t have anything to do with Regina.”

“It has everything to do with Regina! If you hadn’t taken on the darkness for her, none of this would be happening. You should have let it be! You should have let her die! We would have our happy—”

Regina wasn’t even sure when Emma had moved, or if she had moved at all, because the next thing she knew, Hook doubled over on the floor, and Emma’s face was a dangerously blank canvas. She towered over him, looping her thumbs into the pockets of her leather pants.

“I’m going to make this _really_ clear for you, Killian.” Emma kneeled, dropping her hands as she sat on her haunches. “If you _ever_ bring up Regina again, or how this is somehow her fault, when it has everything to do with the fact that you annoy every fiber of my being, I’m gonna kick your ass. Henry and Regina are my family, and you’ve threatened them at least three times in this entire conversation. Go for lucky number four, and I’ll break your fucking legs.”

She stood, jaw set, and turned, marching towards Regina like she had known the woman had been there the entire time. Panic rose in Regina’s chest, and she desperately tried to backtrack, tried to think of any plausible reason that she could have for listening to their private conversation. But Emma just stopped in front of her and took her hand without even a second thought.

“Come on, Regina. Granny probably already shot a squirrel for breakfast.”

Regina kept looking over at Emma, working her bottom lip between her teeth as they walked. Emma dubiously continued to stare ahead, walking with a quiet squeak in her step. The blonde was upset, understandably so, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of her eavesdropping, or because of the Handless Wonder that always seemed to be more trouble than he was worth.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma huffed, shooting her a pointed look.

Regina snapped her head forward, dutifully keeping her eyes ahead of them. “Talk about what, dear?”

“You’re so full of it.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Now is not the time to say, ‘I told you so,’ Regina.”

She knew she shouldn’t, but Regina had never been known for her self-control. “Even though I _did_ tell you so.”

“Ugh,” Emma rolled her eyes, shoving her hand into her back pockets. “Are you gonna bring this up for the rest of my life? I’d like a fair warning so I can expect what I’ll be forced to put up with for Henry’s sake.”

“Now, why would I prepare you, Emma? That would take away my amusement.” She couldn’t help but smile at the snort she drew from Emma. Then, with a little more care and consideration, she said, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. Nor did I mean to upset you.”

Emma bumped her shoulder against Regina’s, and she shot the blonde a bewildered look. They’d been friends for a long time now, but they had never reached the point where they were overly familiar and, dare she say it, _playful_ with one another. “Please,” Emma said, amusement lacing her tone and causing goosebumps to run over Regina’s skin. “I’d have been pissed if it were my mom, but I think you’ve earned yourself a free pass.”

“What makes you say that?”

The blonde shrugged, kicking a small pebble nonchalantly. She seemed to mull the question over, considering her words carefully. “I would have told you about it anyways, even if Hook hadn’t shouted his annoyance at the top of his lungs.”

“Yes, well, he’s never been one for refinement,” she sniffed, pulling her hands out of the confinements of the cloak, and blowing on them for warmth. The weather was changing, the coolness of the dawn setting in. The closer they moved towards the kingdom of Dun Broch, the colder it was going to get. “Or manners,” she added as an afterthought.

Emma scrunched up her nose, shivering in disgust. “Or showers.”

They stopped walking, turning to face the other, then exploded into a fit of undignified giggles. Regina just thought about how her mother would have scolded her for acting like a silly schoolgirl instead of the lady she was supposed to be. It made the high-pitched squeals resonate that much louder.

“So,” Regina pursed her lips, cautiously testing the waters, “did you mean what you said?”

“That I’m gonna break his legs?”

Regina laughed. “Before that… when you said Henry and I were your…”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No clarification needed on what Regina was even asking of her. Her hand reached out, and she gripped Regina’s. Tightly. Squeezing it as they walked. “I meant every word. Especially the part where I’m gonna break his legs.”

“Careful, _Miss Swan_ ,” she murmured, a teasing smirk on her lips. “With talk like that, you might send your mother into an early grave. She’d been set on you spending the rest of your life with that insipid Neanderthal.”

“ _Gag_.” Emma punctuated the word by pulling a sour face. “A marriage like that would be like five minutes long. _Underwater_.”

“Perhaps buried underground?”

“Or walking on hot coals.”

“No,” Regina shook head. “I’d prefer that option to kissing a pirate whose dental hygiene consists of rinsing his mouth every morning with a bottle of rum.”

“ _God_ ,” Emma drawled, giving a beautiful, full-belly laugh. “Me too.”

It was nice.

The bantering.

It felt as though they hadn’t done it in a while. Not since Snow Queens and ice caves. Emma had been having a hard time dealing with the darkness that Gold kept pushing on her, and it had felt as though they had been drifting apart somewhat when Robin returned from New York, as if Emma was trying to make things with Hook more real, as if she was actually trying with him.

Before Regina could give it much thought to it, she stopped again and turned to Emma, the question out of her mouth and into the space between them, hanging like a dreaded illness, “Did you mean it as well? When you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened these past few months with anyone?”

The unspoken _Did that include me?_ hung in the air, but Regina didn’t need to ask it. Emma knew. She somehow always knew when it came to Regina and her insecurities.

“A little…” Emma winced, eyes flashing sadly. “I – I don’t want to talk about it with my parents, because they just won’t _get it_. They’re not going to get why I’m like this. Why I don’t _care_ that I’m broken.”

“Emma, we’re all a little broken. There’s nothing wrong with struggling. That’s why you have a family and friends, so you can lean on them when you’re not strong enough to do it all alone.”

“Yeah, maybe,” voice small and sad, and so unlike the rambunctious woman she knew. “But I’m their Savior. I’m their _hope_. It’s a little difficult to pretend when I don’t even look like the average white knight.”

Regina’s lip twitched, and she placed a hand on her hips. “If we were going for stereotypes, Emma, then you wouldn’t be a woman.”

But Emma didn’t laugh. Didn’t even offer a small, teeny-tiny smile. She just stared at Regina sadly, looked away and rubbed her right arm self-consciously.

She sighed and placed a soft, supporting hand on her shoulder, “We don’t have to talk about it, Emma. If it’s too hard, I’ll make sure that they respect your wishes.”

“But you guys want to help.” Emma clenched her jaw. “The only way I’m gonna get you out of this mess if I tell you the truth – the whole truth. Not just bits and pieces. I want to tell you – only you – but I need a little time.”

“I can work with that.” She nodded and took a step forward. Pressing a soft kiss to Emma’s cheek, she murmured as she pulled away, “Let’s go see if our son has graced the land of the living.”

* * *

The weather grew colder and harsher the closer they came to the border, even when the first snow was months away and they had just entered the springtime. Whenever one of the dwarves would complain about where exactly their destination was located, she would helpfully explain that it was twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death, because evidently, they were going to freeze themselves to death.

What troubled Regina was that they hadn’t planned on packing for more than a few days, even less so prepared for any harsh weather conditions. If based on what little information Emma had given up was correct on the direction they were heading, they had quite a way to go. They didn’t have the necessary supplies, nor did they have the coin to purchase them save for the few measly gold pieces they had swiped from Gold’s shop and the pouch of silver coins Emma had on her, and because Emma had now forbidden any use of magic they couldn’t use a replication spell to make more.

Emma suggested they stop by a village, a pitiful settlement a day’s travel west of _Drumelzier_ , the Scottish border. Though, she only allowed a handful of them to come, David and Snow, Regina and Henry, and Robin reasoned he knew the townsfolk well and knew how to read any signs of a double-crossing. He argued he could be an invaluable asset in watching over them all and had the audacity to suggest that he might even be more capable than Emma. The statement hadn’t gone over particularly well with the blonde, even if she allowed him to dwindle along.

That had been over an hour ago.

She had stuffed her share of coins into their hands and quite literally ordered them to get the supplies they needed from a barmaid in the local tavern – told them to ask for Grunhilda and say that she had sent them – before taking off like hell itself was nipping at her heels. However, not before yanking David’s coat off him, stealing the handkerchief Snow kept in her jacket’s pocket and the pocketknife she had given to Henry for his fifteenth birthday.

In all honesty, Regina deemed it safe to assume Emma had completely lost her mind. Snow seemed to be of the same opinion as she dropped down across from her at one of the tavern’s tables, waiting for the men as they packed the supplies Grunhilda had helped them procure. The raven-haired woman knitted her brows together, had her arms crossed petulantly over her chest and was staring at Regina like she had as a child when the world didn’t make any sense.

“There’s something wrong with her,” she said finally, after mulling over her thoughts for the past five minutes. “She’s angry, and so very sad. So secretive. It’s like she’s put her walls up all over again.”

“I’d like to say I understand…” Regina offered a weak and pathetic smile, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. “But I… I don’t.”

“I’ve never seen her like this. This _worried_ and…”

“Afraid.” She was the only one with the gall to suggest the atrocity. Snow’s eyes snapped up to hers and she tried to reign in the emotion that poured through her own, but it wasn’t much use. Not after all this time and certainly not after what had happened the previous day. “She’s… She’s _terrified_ of that man… this _Eirdsidh_. And to be completely honest… I am too.”

“Neither of you shed much light on the subject,” Snow pushed gently, reaching her hand out across the table and interlacing her fingers with Regina’s. “I tried to raise the subject with her, and she grew… cold and distant. The look on her face…” Snow shook her head, unable to meet Regina’s eyes.

Regina thought back to their first encounter with Leopold, and after when Emma had swooped in to save them. Under all that bravado, under that beautifully cocky smirk, she remembered a moment of hesitation. It was subtle and easily missed, but when Emma had stepped against them, offering them safety and reassurance, allowing them to clutch onto her if necessary, it had been for her own benefit as much as theirs. A reminder that she couldn’t run; an aide-memoire that she had people to protect; a prompting that there was no place for fear.

From her vague, speculative recount of the last few months, Regina could be certain of one thing, for once in agreement with Snow – Emma _was_ terrified of _Eirdsidh_.

It was easily interpreted if you listened closely, the facts there for the taking. Leopold had been looking for Emma in all that time, and possibly others with the same agendas and goals as the vile, horrid carbon-copy of the man she had once been obligated to refer to as husband. He had failed, of course, but the longer Emma remained in Camelot the greater the risk grew towards herself. The greater the risk grew towards all of them.

Not only had Emma forbidden magic that morning, but she also requested that they didn’t ask her any questions as to why, where they were going, or anything else regarding what little she had told them. (So far, the dwarves had broken two of those requests.)

The only explanation was that Leopold could track them somehow – through their thoughts, through their magic, through anything they did or said if they didn’t carefully vet it. The only one that was currently placing a barrier between that type of powerful magic was Emma, and the only way that she could do that was if they let her.

But Regina also knew she couldn’t argue with Snow either. Something _was_ wrong with Emma. Perhaps it was the months of solitude without her family, or the fact that she was fighting against another formidable foe that threatened to tear them apart – one that was hellbent on seeing her dead – or it was because of the reason she wouldn’t sleep, the reason why her bedroll had practically remained untouched that morning.

Either way, Emma was afraid and alone, even amid her family and friends, and Regina didn’t know how to help her.

“Don’t… Don’t read too much into it,” she mumbled, feeling meek and small in the shadows of her uncertainties. “She hasn’t seen us all for six months, Snow. That is a long time; many of things could have happened to her.”

“I know, but it’s not just that. This alleged prophecy she had learned of; it involves you and that’s what’s shaken her. If I know my daughter, and I do, she doesn’t care about what happens to herself. What she does care about – _fiercely_ cares about – is you and Henry. She isn’t sure how to protect the two of you, and that is what leaves her so confused and scared.”

“She was already scared of _Eirdsidh_ before we arrived.” It was a weak retort, one to push away the growing feeling of… _something_ in her chest, but weak nonetheless, because Snow smiled softly at her – sad and broken, and oh, so tenderly.

“Perhaps, but she put that terror aside to save you and Henry from my father.”

Regina’s eyes widened, terror shining in her eyes as the dim lighting of the candle illuminated the apologetic and guilty look on Snow’s face. She could feel the younger woman squeeze her hand, teetering on the precipice of foolish desperation. “How… How did you know it was him?”

“I’ve been naïve for too long,” Snow offered, looking away in the distance. “I’ve always thought that it was just about Daniel and my inability to keep a secret, but when the three of you showed up yesterday and I asked what had happened you had this _look_ … It was the same one you wore when you waved away the bruises on your wrists or the black eyes that the maids barely managed to cover up.”

Squeezing Snow’s hand was all that kept her from falling apart. If she allowed herself to speak, to open her mouth, then she was going to break like the fragile girl she had been on her wedding night. So, she swallowed back the bile that rose into her throat and wiped at the stray tear that betrayed her so fiercely when it escaped the confinement of her eyelashes.

“You had no intention of ever telling me.” It wasn’t phrased as a question because Snow knew. She knew it well that Regina would never have told _anyone_ and that she would have taken that secret to her grave. Until now, until their poorly thought-out rescue combusted in their faces, Regina would have never told a soul. “Regina, you never have to talk with me about it. _Ever_. Not unless you want to. But don’t think for a second that I would think any less of you or continue to place my father on the pedestal that he so clearly never deserved for even a second.”

Regina reached across the table with her other hand, grasping and clenching the only thing that grounded her. Snow didn’t say much, didn’t dare allow herself to taint the moment which Regina had craved for all her life; to be understood.

* * *

An hour turned into two, and when they neared the third hour mark, Emma came sauntering over to their table with a significant limp, hunched over as if she was exhausted and tired. She slumped into the nearest chair just as David and Henry flew out of their seats, concern etched over their handsome features.

Emma was no longer dressed in David’s coat, but now adorned a thick, black hood. When she pulled it back, Regina could see the eyepatch she had swiped from somewhere and the fact that her hair was now muddy and filled with grime, enough to be mistaken for a brunette. There was a new bruise on her cheek, black and blue, likely pulsing in pain, and there was a cut on her lip that suggested she had done more than just run into a tree.

“We have horses,” was all she said as she reached across the table and plucked an apple right out of Robin’s hand, taking a great big chunk out of the fruit. “Just three – enough to help carry our supplies and have the children and Zelena rest more while we travel. It should help us move faster.”

Neither one of them said a thing for a long while, staring at her like she had just dropped out of the sky. Regina could feel something akin to anger growing in the pit of her stomach, and her magic bristling under her fingertips, but then Emma looked over towards her. There was something in her eyes, something that pleaded for understanding, for level-headedness in a difficult situation, and even as every nerve in her being wanted to _kill_ the woman for making them all worry, she had no choice but to give in.

Robin, on the other hand, was becoming a boar-headed ass.

“And just where have you procured these horses – when you have no money?”

“Rich, coming from a common thief.” Emma tossed back, gripping onto the cup of ale the barmaid poured on her arrival. “It doesn’t matter where I got the horses, or _how_ I procured them. All you need to know is that we’ll be traveling west from here on. It’ll cost us a few days, but folk say there’s a blockade near _Drumelzier_. The last thing we need is to get caught.”

“Yes, stolen horses ought to stir-up some trouble.” Robin looked over to Regina, leaning across the table as if he wanted to have a private conversation. “You can’t actually be allowing this? The King and his men are looking for her, and by extension all of us. A stunt such as this will only attract attention.”

Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes as she set her cup back down. “Hey, man, what’s your problem?”

“My _problem_ with you is that you’re reckless and you’re keeping secrets.” He rose out of his chair, staring down at Emma. Regina reached for his forearm, about to scold him when he cut her off, “I don’t buy this tale of your goodness winning over the darkness, because you still possess a blade with your name engraved into it.”

A growl escaped the blonde’s lips and she reached for the hilt of her sword in the same movement she kicked her chair back. The moment her hand touched the blade, a glowing blue light flashed in her eyes, calling forth her magic in a short burst of energy. “You think I’m the Dark One, so why don’t you come here and find out?”

“That is _enough_.” Regina hissed, tugging Robin back a step to break their heated stare. “I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but it ends now. Taking measurements of your loins is not getting us anywhere. We’re taking the horses and we’ll do as Emma says. She has been here longer and knows the area better than any of us.”

“But she—”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve already caused enough of a scene as is.”

The group turned their heads to where a few of the other patrons were staring at them expectantly, waiting for a brawl to erupt between them. At the counter, they could see Grunhilda staring at them with narrowed eyes, prepared to call over the bodyguards stationed by the door if necessary.

In response, Emma released her sword and held her hands up for Grunhilda to see, an apologetic gesture for such violence in the woman’s establishment. This seemed to satisfy the old broad, and she relaxed. The tension began to dissipate between the members of the group, but Emma’s shoulders remained tense, her jaw set in frustration and her eyes darting around for any sign of a threat.

As they took their seats again, Emma reached inside her procured coat and retrieved a scroll. She leaned over the table, placing it onto the hardwood. “I know of an easier way to cross the border,” she explained, motioning to a marker a few miles from the border itself. “There was a kingdom built there, but it fell into ruin centuries ago. All that remains now is the ruins themselves and the passageway into its woods. Legend says that it’s cursed, but it’s mostly to ward off evil. We’ll be okay.”

“And this is the only way?” Snow inquired, laying a hand on Emma’s. “We can’t cross the border anywhere else?”

“ _Eirdsidh_ and Arthur already know I’m here. If we even manage to get across the blockades, the King’s men won’t hesitate to pursue. War is brewing between Camelot and Dun Broch, they want an excuse to take action, so they don’t really care about treaties anymore. People are afraid of the legends, so they wouldn’t dare follow. Even _Eirdsidh_ has respect for the magical forces out there.”

“So, we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.” David shook his head, as if it would clear him from his troubled thoughts. “Shouldn’t we be afraid of these legends, too? I mean, there are always reasons why they’re there – to warn people of the creatures that roam there.”

Emma pursed her lips. “We don’t have a choice, Dad. If it were just me, I’d find another way, but there’s too much at stake now.”

“I get that, but we need to think this through.”

“We don’t have any time left to think it through, we don’t have any time other than to keep going forward. If _Eirdsidh_ finds us before we cross the border, then—” Emma cut herself off, eyes shooting towards Regina’s. There it was… The fear that Regina had been sensing since that first encounter. Emma was afraid. “No, I’m not risking our lives like that. Trust me when I say that this is the only way.”

David frowned. “Emma—”

“ _Of course_ , we trust you,” Snow interrupted, squeezing Emma’s hand with both of hers. “If you say that this is the only way, then this _is_ the only way.”

The raven-haired turned away to fix her husband with a stern look, one that requested him not to push the matter any further.

“Very well,” he sighed, conceding. “We’ll do as you say.”

“Then, it’s settled.” Regina reached across the table and took Emma’s hand in hers. “We’ll follow wherever you lead.”

Emma smiled at her, wide and carefree, much like she had all those months ago at the start of _Operation Mongoose_ and the words _You deserve a happy ending, too_ slipped past her lips. But then it tainted with something Regina couldn’t quite place when Robin placed his hand over Regina’s.

“Let’s hope you don’t get us all killed.”

Just like before, in the nick of time before they left, shouts filled in from outside the establishment. The music came to a sudden halt as the galloping of horses filled the air. But this time, the tavern’s door burst open to reveal a man dressed in a knight of Camelot’s uniform, and in piled a dozen other men with the exact same attire.

“Make way for the King!” the first knight exclaimed, voice booming.

Fear washed over Regina as the tavern’s occupants rose to their feet and took a knee. Hurriedly, Snow and Charming did the same, ordering that they follow their lead. Regina turned to find Emma, to hear what ingenious plan she had to get them out of this, but she was nowhere in sight. She stood there, wildly looking around for the woman until Snow grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down.

“Stay low,” she hissed. “We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

“Where’s—”

“I don’t know,” Snow clenched her jaw. “But I would assume she has a plan. If she doesn’t, then…”

“We’re screwed,” Regina finished.

A few torturous seconds passed before the door opened again. In walked a man that wasn’t much older than Emma. He ever looked the part of a tyrannical ruler. From his entitled, pristine jawline to the armor on his chest. At his side rested a sword. A sword that she could only assume was that of the legendary sword of Excalibur. It oozed with magic – thick enough to suffocate even that of an experienced magic user such as herself. But it wasn’t the blade of a Dark One or a Light One. It was powerful, and struck fear in his people, but it wasn’t anything like the power that Emma or Leopold wielded.

He marched deeper into the tavern, eyes scanning between the people. Any blonde in the vicinity he grabbed by the hair and tugged her off her feet. Each individual let out a cry of pain, but no one moved to stop him. And as much as Regina wanted to, she knew that there wasn’t anything she could do. Not when it could potentially interfere with whatever plan Emma had up her sleeve.

After some time, he stopped in front of their group. He had been content in moving along, but he did a doubletake amongst them. A moment passed. Then another. And then he grabbed Belle by her hair tugging her off the ground and dragging her out in front of everyone.

“Let her go!” Charming bellowed, off his feet and reaching for the sword at his side, but the knights at Arthur’s side jumped to grab him.

Killian and Hood were up next, along with Henry, but before they could even gain a few steps they were already restrained. Regina watched in utter horror as one of them knocked the wind out of Henry and elbow him in the jaw. At the first sign of blood, she roared with rage, but before she could even allow her magic to burst forth, there was a sharp whistle that echoed through the tavern. Everyone stopped, confused, and bewildered, and turned.

There Emma stood arms crossed over her chest with a relatively bored look on her face, but Regina could feel the injustice flaring up in the blonde. The way that her magic was urging on her to be used. Whatever Emma had planned, she needed to show restraint.

At least for now.

“I was wondering if I would have to take another person’s head before you showed your cowardly face,” Arthur said, cruel and cutting. There was a trace of amusement on his face, and Regina could feel her own magic plead as well. Pleading to wipe the smug look off his face. “You are a _very_ difficult individual to get a hold of Emma Swan. The situation is normally reversed, so I’m unsure what the proper etiquette is.”

He released Belle and she hurriedly rushed back to them. Instinctively, Regina reached for her and hurriedly positioned the woman behind her. Arthur motioned his hand to the others and the knights released them men. Henry rushed over to her and she grabbed him, pulling him flush against herself. It was all she could do without taking her eyes off the stand-off. She would tend to his injuries when they were all safe again.

Emma offered a shrug as her lips pulled into a smirk. “Well, I guess this is the part where we say _hi_. Long time no see, Artie. What you been up to? Stealing candy from babies again, or have you upgraded from those types of tantrums.” She snapped her fingers as if a thought occurred to her. “ _Oh_! How’s your sister? I had to leave in a hurry last time I saw her, but from the state I left her in I’m sure she was all too satisfied—”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” he growled, reaching for his sword, but found himself grasping at air. He frowned looking down to where his scabbard had been only to find that it was gone. When he looked up, he found Emma swinging sword and scabbard around as if it weren’t one of the most powerful objects in the entire realm. “You—”

“—should really be looking after this thing a little better. You took the words right out of my mouth, Artie.” She continued to play with it, balancing the point of the scabbard in her fingers. Regina could only stare incredulously, because disrespecting something with a power of that caliber was a bit much. Even for Emma. “How’s the wife? Last time we saw each other, she was going on and on about what a pain in the ass you were.”

“You’re going to regret ever laying a hand on her, you bitch!” He took a step forward, but halted as soon as Emma dropped the sword, gripping the hilt and the scabbard at the same time.

“Ah, ah,” she tutted. “One more step and I unsheathe this bad boy. You and I both know what happened the last time I played with it.”

“You’re bluffing,” he barked. “You’re just as weary of him as I am.”

“Well, I guess the question is whether you’re willing to take that bet,” Emma shrugged, resuming her tomfoolery. Arthur said nothing at all as his jaw clenched. “Not so wordy now, are you?” She scoffed and then with a single jerk of her hand, the sword disappeared into thin air, as if she were putting up a show. She had the flare of any stage magician, even going as far as gasping for effect. “Oh, my! Where did it go?”

Regina wanted to scream – ask her what ridiculousness she was busy with, but it seemed that Arthur hadn’t yet made the connection between them and Emma. He didn’t know who they – and more importantly – she was. She couldn’t allow that to change, especially if he wanted her for the same reasons that Leopold did. Right now, Emma had the upper hand, but that would change the second that he found out her identity.

“Are you bloody insane—” Arthur was advancing towards her but stopped short as the very ground beneath their feet began to shake. The building trembled and in the distance, Regina could feel the sudden burst of magical energy. The explosion deafened their ears and Regina had to grab onto Henry for balance.

Panic erupted amongst the people and they took off in whichever direction. Regina could barely keep up with the sudden rush of activity, people bumping into her, into each other. She couldn’t move yet. Not when Emma and Arthur were still sizing each other up.

“Oooh,” Emma offered a half-hearted wince. “I’d go and see what that was. With that camp of yours set up… what? Like ten miles from here?” A smirk flashed over a lips. “Gods, it would be _such_ a tragedy if anything happened to it, wouldn’t you say, Artie?”

Arthur let out a growl, but there wasn’t anything else to do. He turned to his men. “Retreat to the camp. The man who finds my bloody sword will feast like a king tonight.” He turned towards Emma. “This isn’t over, _gwaredwr_.”

In true Emma-fashion, the blonde grinned and flipped the man off. “Say hi to your wife and sister for me. And tell him I’ll come see ‘em real soon.”

The man boiled with rage, but he turned heel and rushed towards the door, his men setting after him. As soon as he was out of sight, slipping out amongst the crowd, Emma rushed towards them. Inside her pocket, she retrieved a small coin purse and tossed it towards Grunhilda, the barkeep. She caught it effortlessly, as if this was some kind of a regular occurrence.

“We gotta go,” Emma hissed. “That distraction will buy us some time, but only long enough to place a good amount of distance between Arthur and us. If we don’t go now, chances of him catching up might be higher than I’m calculating right now.”

“You just had to piss off two powerful magical users, didn’t you?” Robin barked at her. “Anything else we need to know before we blindly follow you to our deaths?”

Emma paused, acting like she was considering it. “This one time, a couple of weeks ago, I punched a wizard in the face, but we’re cool now. I don’t think he’s going to come at us guns blazing, but you wanted to know, I guess.”

Robin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, then, you should have been more specific.”


	6. The Sword In My Hand; The Knife In My Back

The whispers of the darkness came to her late in the evenings when the ashes of their campfire had blown away with the wind and the restful breaths of her companions filled the air around her. It always seemed to worsen when she was in Camelot, but now with Regina a mere few feet away, they were clawing at her insistently.

_Eirdsidh_ was frantic to learn of her friend’s whereabouts, yearning for another moment in her presence. It was those thoughts that clawed at her mind, tugged at every fiber of her being, and the longer they took to reach the border, the more the Dark One’s magic attempted to taint her own. He filled her mind with unspeakable thoughts, visions of death, plans of what his empire would look like if he managed to win.

There were other Dark Ones with the same malicious vendettas, but they weren’t as powerful and feared her more than they lusted for power. Enough that they wouldn’t dare approach her or those under her protection. The few she had encountered were mere specs of dust compared to her magic and had been no more of a threat to her than the ant that crawled on the ground; they had been more of a headache than capable of any harm. They didn’t even possess a blade of their own to challenge her, their power having been claimed by _Eirdsidh_ , left with nothing but their immortality, but now it was more of a punishment than before.

It was _Eirdsidh_ that was another story.

The _King of the Wild Hunt_ was no fool when it came to magic and the prophecy. He lusted for the thrill of the chase, thirst for the blood of his foes and had no ethical problem of whoever suffered collateral damage.

If he found them, if she let her guard down or allowed her mind to slip in even a moment’s concentration, she might as well have signed the death warrant of everyone she knew and loved.

Then there were the shadows. The echoes of the past that haunted her mind. They reached out towards her, like children pleading their mother to lift them into the air and hold them close to her chest. Their touch was filled with such burning _hatred_ and a malevolent touch that choked her, _paralyzed_ her, _tortured_ her when she allowed herself even a moment’s sleep.

It was better not to sleep at all. She rather placed distance between herself and the others to keep them from worrying too much, promising to one day explain everything – one day soon. If she continued to clear her mind – continued to strengthen it – into the late hours of the evening and onto the next day’s dawn, then perhaps she needn’t even explain anything at all. Perhaps then she would finally be able to sleep.

Emma’s eyes snapped open when the soft scrunching of leaves drew her attention somewhere to the left of her – the direction of their camp. She didn’t need a mirror to know her eyes had been glowing or the skin on the side of her face had been cracked open, illuminated in a soft glow. The heat of her magic was something she was used to by now even when it was strange to someone else.

Her first instinct was to reach for the scabbard next to her, the scabbard which kept her sword safe until it was needed, but then she caught sight of a wide-eyed Regina, hair mushed from sleep, lipstick smeared from passing out face first into her bedroll. She would have laughed at how adorable she looked had Emma not been so surprised to find her out of bed.

The glow faded and sea-green sliced into Regina with concern and worry. "Is something wrong?"

Regina shuffled from side-to-side, so uncharacteristically uncertain of how to proceed. Emma realized that her drowsiness had not yet faded and that it would take a moment for her to remember she wasn’t the meek woman that stood before her now.

“What are you doing up?” Emma pressed, her frown deepening. “Did you sense something?”

“No, I…” she cleared her throat, shuffling closer on bare feet. It was apparent she had forgotten her boots next to her bedroll when she had left in her state of exhaustion. “You come out here to meditate?”

Did she scare her? Was Regina frightened of what she had just seen?

“Yes,” Emma decided to answer, offering a weak but inviting smile. It urged the brunette to approach, taking a seat directly in front of her, their knees grazing. Immediately, with their limbs touching, Emma could feel the transfer of magic, the touch of comfort between them. It flowed, giving and taking, pushing and pulling, and Emma nearly moaned in pleasure. Regina must have opened the connection between them to join in on the exercise. “It helps me keep my mind clear. The stronger I get, the less chance he has of tracking us.”

Regina didn’t need to ask who Emma was talking about.

“Is that why you haven’t been sleeping this past week?”

“Yes, partly.”

“There’s another reason?” Regina reached out towards her, taking her hand in hers, the flow between them increasing and making the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stand on end. She hummed, her eyes fluttered closed, her senses heightened.

“ _Eirdsidh_ and I share a connection – that’s why he can read my thoughts and find my location. The connection goes both ways though, and since he’s trying so hard to reach out to me, some of his thoughts fill my mind… which is less than great.”

“Why? Isn’t that advantageous for us?” Regina’s voice was like silk, soft and comforting, filling her with warmth. “We could find out what he’s planning and continue to remain a few steps ahead of him.”

“It’s nothing like that, trust me.” Emma shook her head, her hand shaking. She gripped tightly onto Regina and hoped she hadn’t noticed the slip. “He’s mocking me… _taunting_ me… trying to goad me into anger. He wants me to feel threatened, telling me exactly what will happen if he gets his hands on…”

Regina tensed in her touch and Emma feared she would pull away. To her surprise, she could feel a soft grazing of her skin, Regina’s thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand and her other one reaching to take a hold of her bandaged one.

“He’s trying to snuff my light out with fear,” she continued, hating the way her breath hitched when Regina squeezed her right hand. “He reasons if he can consume me with all those horrible images and thoughts, darkness will somehow grow inside of me. It’s not just about finding you; it’s about breaking me so that I can’t protect you.”

“I thought we couldn’t talk about him or what he’s plotting while in Camelot?” There was a teasing lilt to Regina’s voice, but it was husky and breathless, the magical energy flowing between having a great effect on her too. Emma couldn’t remember the last time they had done this; connected themselves so intimately to one another.

“This is helping. It’s keeping him out of my mind.” Emma sighed deeply, a wave of relief washing over her. “I can tell you small details, things that will help you understand the way I’ve been acting lately, as long as they’re not anything major. He can read your thoughts too. The same way you’re connected to me, he’s connected to you. Don’t worry though, I’ve been filtering the connection.”

Emma could feel Regina scowling. “Is it because of my involvement in this prophecy?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment of silence, Regina contemplating how to proceed, and Emma briefly considered cracking open an eye to see the other woman’s face, enveloped by the darkness of the night, before the woman finally spoke again.

“Is there another reason you’re afraid of him? Another reason besides what he could do to me – to our family?”

“Yes.” A flash of something; a flash of the pain; it sent a ripple of magic through Emma’s body and before she could stop it from reaching Regina, squashing it like the pest it was, she heard the woman gasp. “Please don’t ask me.”

“Emma—”

“ _Please_ ,” she whispered, throat thick with emotion, “please don’t ask me.”

“Okay.” Regina squeezed her hands. “Okay, I won’t ask you. Do you promise to tell me when you’re ready?” She opened her eyes to find Regina staring back at her, a soft violet hue swimming in her russet eyes. “Do you promise that you’ll tell me everything?”

It was a weighted question, but one that Emma gladly answered. “When we get there, where we’re going, I promise to tell you everything. I just need time to… to figure things out, and not constantly worry about him reading my – _our_ thoughts.”

“When we get there,” Regina repeated, a smile tugging at her lips. Then, the smile turned to a frown. “May I… May I ask you a question?”

“Do I have a choice?” Emma joked.

It didn’t spark any humor in Regina like she had wanted because her frown only deepened. “You always have a choice, Emma.”

“That’s not what I…” Emma shook her head. “Ask away, Regina. I don’t mind you asking me things. I’ll determine whether I can answer it or not.”

“You… You mentioned Arthur’s sister and his wife. Twice, I might add.” Regina hesitated when Emma tensed. “Are they the reason that he’s particularly aversive of you?”

“I… yes,” Emma responded carefully, wincing at the sudden pitch in her tone. “The prophecy is influencing him and stuff, so he wouldn’t like me either way. Then there’s also the fact that I’ve been causing a lot of havoc in Camelot for him. Because of me, he’s got several revolts on his hands. It’s only a matter of time before the kingdom turns against him.”

“Why does the kingdom want to turn against him?”

“Like his father, Arthur upholds the laws against magic, but he’s a hypocrite. He burns sorcerers and sorceresses at the stake even when he uses a magical sword himself. He hoards the magic that he finds and is jealous of anyone else who possesses it. That’s why he’s so interested in the prophecy. He wants power to secure his kingdom with, and if he were to become a King of a Wild Hunt, then he’ll be unstoppable.”

“So, where does his wife and sister fit into this?”

“As paranoid as Arthur is, and as clever as he thinks he is, he’s a dumbass. He can’t see that those closest to him are against his actions. Guinevere and Morgana contacted me in the hopes of aiding the rebellion. I became the poster kid for the rebels and Arthur branded me the False Liberator.” Emma shrugged her soldiers. “We’re friends. Sort of. Morgana grew up with… I… that’s something that’ll have to wait. I can’t put her at risk.”

“Alright,” Regina squeezed her hands. “But… it sounded like you three were more than friends. You goaded Arthur. The only time I saw a man react like that was when another implied that they had slept with his mother, his sister, or his wife.”

Emma clenched her jaw, feeling guilt creeping underneath her skin. “You have to understand, Regina. I’ve been here for _six months_. Alone. I had to build relationship with other people. I had to… I had to not only survive, but I had to _live_. And if you’re going to judge me for that, then—”

Regina tightened her grip on Emma’s hands, preventing escape. “I’m not judging, dear. That would make me a hypocrite considering what I had done to survive.” She smoothed her thumbs over Emma’s knuckles, pouring calming magic into her. “I just want to understand. I don’t want you to shut me out, Emma.”

“I… Okay.” Emma sighed, feeling the guilt spiral into a sense of dread. “But can we _not_ talk about the fact that I had a threesome with Guinevere and Morgana with you. I don’t think that’s really something that you want me to go into.”

Regina blanched and Emma could feel a spike of what she could only identify as jealousy. She couldn’t help but smirk.

“Yes, I agree,” Regina hurriedly nodded. “We don’t ever have to discuss that. In fact, let’s never bring it up ever again.”

It must have been hours, it could have been minutes, sitting there and allowing the flow to continue between them. Specifically, it helped them channel the pent-up magic underneath their skins without using any of it, keeping themselves from spontaneous combustion. It was a desperate release that they had needed since the start of their journey. The dreams and images faded away into a white, blank slate and a part of her tried to remember the last time when she had been so relaxed, utterly untethered from the world.

The night sky faded into dawn, the sky painting with beautiful orange and purple. The sun danced on their skin like the heat of a small fireplace, warming and stirring them from their dazed state. A breeze, cool and refreshing, caused goosebumps to trail down Emma’s arms and a shiver up her spine, and she found herself thankful she had finally convinced Regina to return her coat.

In the distance, they could hear the others beginning to stir – Hook’s moody grumbling, Henry’s protests as Roland landed with a flop on top of his chest, the dwarves’ arguing about who gets the last of the dried fruits, Zelena’s nagging about the aching in her feet and the knot in her back – and Emma reasoned they should get up before someone spotted them.

Emma opened her eyes, yawning and stretching herself, Regina following suit. They still had a few things to do before they left, the border now less than a few miles from their campsite. Soon, they would be in the weaving, thick and mystical forests of _Mor’du_ , twisting and turning with the pathways. Merida had told her never to enter there, to steer as clear from that place, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and she could take on the small nuisances of the woods rather than face _Eirdsidh_ again.

She moved to stand up, hands pressing down onto her knees and angling her body so that she could push herself onto her feet, but Regina reached forward, snatching her wrist in a firm and gentle hold. Emma looked up into her eyes, watching as the last of the violet faded into plumps of brown.

“Are you sure about today?” she asked, cautious and tentative, eyes intense and searching.

Emma sighed, because she wasn’t sure of it; she wasn’t even remotely close to being sure of entering that godforsaken place any more than she was certain that she hadn’t dreamt up the last six months.

“No, but I’m not spending another second here in this kingdom when I know that there’s a way out. I’m not risking our lives any more than I already have; we’ve been here too long.”

“Emma, I don’t want you making any rash decisions because your afraid—”

“There isn’t time for making any decisions other than rash ones.” Emma pulled her wrist away and stood to her full height, staring down at Regina. “I’ve held them off long enough, and it’s getting more difficult each day. Your help this morning had been great, but now you’ll have to strengthen your mind too. Sleep is where you’re vulnerable, where _Eirdsidh_ can slip the smallest of twisted thoughts into your mind to gain the biggest advantage.”

“Very well, Emma.” Regina held her hand out and Emma easily latched onto it, pulling her to eye-level. “As I said, I trust you and your judgement. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Emma smiled weakly, “Me too.”

* * *

Loading their supplies took about an hour more than they had, mostly because packing up the campsite was only done by Emma, Regina, David and Snow. The dwarves feigned exhaustion on account of only four hours of sleep, Robin had to attend to whatever ridiculous whim Zelena had that morning, Belle was currently pouring over the maps per Emma’s request, and Henry was running around with Roland, laughing and tumbling through the flower beds that bloomed underneath the dense trees as they tried to forget the dangers that loomed over their heads.

By then, dark, stormy clouds had settled overhead, and a light drizzle of rain slipped through the thick forestry. All Emma could do was grumble to herself as her yellow princess curls turned stringy and bedraggled, flattening against her skull and the side of her face. It wouldn’t be long before the storm finally raged, but there wasn’t time for them to find shelter. The Forest of _Mor’du_ was only a mile or two now; they would take shelter once they were across the border.

She had just about loaded the last of their things, looking up to where Regina was now chasing Henry and Roland with a bright, happy smile, even when she too was now soaked to the bone like the rest of them. The corners of Emma’s mouth tucked upwards when the woman caught up with the younger of the two, throwing her arms around his middle and encasing her against her chest as she blew raspberries into his neck. He squealed with laughter, howling as he squirmed in her touch and pleaded for her mercy.

When the temperature dropped, it was sudden and unpredicted. It set in with a violent and malicious intent, and the water soaking Emma’s bandages and clothes began to freeze over, her hair stiff and frost clinging at her eyebrows and lashes. Her breath huffed out, a ghosted cloud that reminded her of their harsh Maine winter that had recently flown over the borders of Storybrooke.

The horses suddenly reared, whinnying furiously as they stomped their hooves. She grabbed her horse’s reigns while David and Regina ran to soothe the other two, but even that seemed to offer them little comfort. The animals remained restless and Emma looked overhead to watch birds scatter from their nests, sent into flight by the thick tension in the air.

No.

This wasn’t happening.

How did he _find them_?

Emma should know better than to let it surprise her; _Eirdsidh_ somehow always managed to find her despite how skilled she had gotten at hiding her tracks.

She looked in the distance behind them, eyes questing, searching until she could see the shadows shift and change. A thick, misty fog crept towards them, crawling on its belly. The distant clinking of armour and weapons filled her ears and the ever pervasive and suffocating black magic bore into each of Emma’s magically drawn protection runes, digging underneath her skin and leaving her aching and breathless.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“What?” Regina’s voice tinged with panic, gripping the reigns of her black mare with wide, worrisome eyes. “What is it?”

Though, Emma could see she already knew all too well who was marching through the forest. She could see it in her eyes – the breathless desperation, the unrelenting anxiety that gripped her chest. There was no doubt in Emma’s mind that Regina knew exactly what was going on.

She motioned her mother closer, shoving the reins of the stallion into her hands before moving over towards Regina. It dawned on her, as she approached the woman, that while _Eirdsidh’s_ army marched towards them, following their trail, they were still blissfully unaware of their presence. The King of the Wild Hunt himself had yet to sense them, which meant they had less than a few seconds to make haste.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see David motioning the others over, instructing them to move quietly. Robin, as dense as he seemed to her, caught on and began to push Zelena and Roland in the direction David’s mare. Granny, with little Neal wrapped in a bundle of blue clutched securely against her bosom, walked over towards Snow, and allowed the woman to help her onto the beast.

It was something she had discussed a few days prior. If any immediate danger were to present itself, women, and children first, meaning that Henry and Regina would be riding off with the others, no matter how audibly they protested. Any other villain and Emma would easily be persuaded to plead for Regina’s help. Unfortunately, _Eirdsidh_ wasn’t like anything they had faced before; nothing like they had faced before.

“Get on the horse,” Emma whispered, eyes trained on the approaching fog, just as Henry took his place next to his mother. “Ride to the borders and wait for us under the archway; the ruins are easy to spot.”

Regina gripped her wrist, digging her nails into the flesh there before hissing, “You are not going to make me leave you here, Emma.”

“Yeah, Ma,” Henry added. “We go together, or we make a stand here and fight. You can’t face an army on your own.”

“I will if it means you and your mother are safe.” Emma could feel magic bubbling under the surface, pleading to be released as anger began to coil in her stomach. It pushed and pulled, tingling like pins and needles. She huffed out a calming breath, knowing now was not the time to lose her temper. “We’ve been over this; it isn’t up for debate.”

“I’m not leaving you to face him on your own. _Again_.” Emma hissed when the woman’s nails pierce skin, drawing blood in her desperate attempt to gain her attention. “You can’t make me get on that horse, and you can turn blue and purple as you please, but the fact remains is that I’m not leaving you to your death.”

“Listen to me, woman!” Emma sibilated the title with a pained fury, breaking her wrist away that she could grip each of them by their shoulders. “His army will massacre anyone in their path – I’ve watched them do it. I can keep them occupied long enough for everyone to get to safety, but I can only do that with the two of you out of the way.”

“Emma, I’m not some damsel in distress!”

“No, but if he gets his hands on you, he’s not going to make the same mistake of trying to get rid of me first. He’ll just take you – and we both know that you don’t stand a chance against him.”

A pained sound escaped the back of Regina’s throat and she blindly reached for Emma’s arm, gripping onto it as she glanced away. Her legs quaked under the weight of the decision and Henry reached out to steady her, his eyes wide and innocent like the child he was supposed to be.

He turned to Emma, clenching his jaw despite how small he felt. “We’ll go, but we’ll be waiting. If you don’t show up with grams and gramps in less than ten minutes, I’ll kill you myself.”

Emma released a weighted laugh, her chest aching a little less as she ruffled his hair. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Wordlessly, hesitantly, Regina pulled herself up onto the saddle and settled down with the reins taut in her gloved hands. Emma boosted Henry up a moment after her and helped him settle against his mother’s back, clutching onto her small frame like he probably had as a babe. Regina looked down at her, eyes shining with something that Emma had yet to decipher even after all the time they had known each other.

She opened her mouth to speak, a choked _Emma_ slipping past her lips, but Emma interrupted her when a dawning thought struck her, a thought she had pushed to the back of her mind because she couldn’t have cared less. Now, however, it seemed to be far more of a coincidence than anything else.

“Where’s Hook?”

Regina looked unpleased for a moment, that Emma had dared it to be the last words shared between them, but then she seemed to catch her meaning, head darting around in search of the slimy bastard.

Snow looked out from behind her horse, her hand slipping from little Neal’s and stared at her daughter with considering eyes. “You don’t think…?”

“Oh, that duplicitous, selfish little boy, masquerading as a sadistic, narcissistic piece of shit!” The words are drowned out by the sound of a horn blowing in the distance and war-cries cracking like the thunder in the sky and snapping like lightning. “He did this; he led them straight to us.”

“Yeah, I probably should have held off on the smashing of his ego until we had reached _Dun Broch_.” Emma gripped Regina’s hand, squeezing it before stepping back. “Don’t stop, not for a second. If we don’t make it within those ten minutes, then keep going. We’ll catch up.”

“Emma, don’t you dare do something reckless and—”

Emma slapped the back of the mare and spurred it into a sprint. All they could do was clutch onto the reins with desperation, their shocked cries cutting into Emma. She turned in time to see Robin doing the same, Zelena racing after them, Granny and little Neal following a second later.

“Come on,” she ordered, sending them a blank, expressionless look. Fear wasn’t an option now. “The deathhounds will have been released, so hightail it out of here. I’ll follow as soon as I know you guys are safe.”

David nodded his head, clasping her shoulder before he and Snow set off. They began to lead the others in a quick, seasoned run, intent on placing as much distance between them and the army as possible. She was thankful for their co-operation, that they had somewhat of the necessary common sense that this wasn’t a battle they could fight with her.

Her right hand clutched around the hilt of her sword and she drew the weapon just as the first wave of deathhounds descended upon her. Their eyes, black and hollow, filled with a darkness that swallowed the light around it like a blackhole. Blotches of decay filled with maggots covered their skin, the stench worse than a corpse that had been lying in the sun for weeks. Emma nearly reeled back when the beast launched itself at her, teeth snapping a mere inch from her face as she caught it by its throat. Pulsating magic from her harm and into her hand, the creature howled in pain as lightning coursed through its body and then dropped to the ground. The scent of burnt flesh filled Emma’s nose, and had it not been for the looming threat, she would have hunched over and puked.

The sword, her engraved name glinting in the corner of her eye with a glowing blue hue, sliced through the storming pack. Their corpses dropped onto the ground with resonating thuds, blood coating her clothes and hair, the stench now clinging to her undeterred by the pouring rain. Emma clenched her jaw at the awful gurgling sound escaping their throats before finally fading away in the wind.

The last of them drop onto the ground, intestines spilling into the luscious green grass and painting the ground with oozing, black blood, and she gasped out breathlessly. She sheathed her sword just as the front line of the Wild Hunt appeared in the mist a yard ahead of her. The galloping of horses ricocheted off the trees, pounding in her mind. They broke through the mist, their monstrous cries reverberating like a hollow groan, loud and demanding of fresh spilt blood—her blood.

She raised her hand into the air, making a fist. Her hair stood on end and she could feel it raise further into the air as static electricity continued to build around her. Closing her eyes, she could see the lightning in her mind, crackling above head and roaring along the thunder she had summoned. When she brought her fist down like a hammer, eyes bursting open with a glorious blue glow, she roared with the same ferocity as the thunderbolt. It descended upon the horde, struck them from their horses, disintegrated them from their saddles.

A lone, galloping white stallion barreled towards her, frightened and skittish now that it was without its master. She didn’t waste any time by dawdling and gripped the horse by its reins as it ran past, hoisting herself into the saddle.

“Yah!” She snapped the reins with a bellow and steadied herself against the horse as it took off with a powerful nicker.

Together they broke through the treeline, grass, and mud scattering into the air as the hooves hammered into the meadow. She could see the outline of the ruins in the distance, faintly distinguish their horses waiting impatiently with the group. Her parents, along with the dwarves and Belle were about halfway there, running as if hell itself was nipping at her heels.

Sparing a glance behind her, Emma could see the riders of the Hunt galloping after her, the skeleton armor sets even more nefarious in the flash of lightning and the gloom of the ever-darkening sky. In the back of her mind, she recalled the stories she had heard about them. The dead hordes of _Eirdsidh_ who didn’t eat or sleep, only living for the thrill of the hunt, the opportunity to please their King and the glory that came in doing so. They wouldn’t stop until they had her in their grasp, tearing her limb from limb.

Emma tightened her grip and gave the horse another sharp and painful kick, urging him to pump his legs faster. The stallion whinnied in what she deemed to be understanding and agreement, because he galloped with renewed fervor as the fear of capture lingered over their heads. A part of her wanted to close her eyes and hope for the best as they flew across the planes, too afraid to turn and see how much distance the Hunt had gained on her.

When an ominous groan echoed across the meadow, Emma knew she was going to have to leave the horse behind. She allowed herself a brief reprieve by widening her eyes at the dark, black ball of flames descending towards them like a shower of meteorites before she stood on the back of the saddle and threw herself from the horse. Her heart ached along with her scraped hand and winded chest when the flames barrel down on her companion, consuming him before he even had the chance to experience the pain.

She landed with a painful thud, eyes stinging with the tears she hadn’t tolerated in front of the others before scrambling to her feet and taking off in what could likely be her last hopeless attempt at escape. She had come too far to give up now, lost too much because of the psychotic bastard that wanted nothing more than to run her through with the very weapon that clung to her side, was too close to them, too close to a glimmer of _something_ that could likely be hope. She hadn’t had that in six months, and that made her a dangerous and unpredictable tornado of unrelenting fury.

At the far end of the meadow, she could see the others sprint underneath the archway, catching each other in yearning embraces. She was only halfway now, the riders rapidly gaining on her, and she could see the others turning to look at her, appearing a few moments shy of spurring her on. Her magic vibrated underneath her skin and she could feel her form shimmering, fading in and out of time and space as she prepared to teleport herself across the plane.

Emma disappeared and then reappeared on the far end of the meadow beneath the archway with the others. She turned, gripping the sword at her side, and watched as the Wild Hunt’s riders came to a sudden stop. Their horses reared in frustration and she could see them trotting carefully before one of the riders held his axe in the air, sounding a retreat. She waited until she was certain they weren’t going to follow before turning back to the group.

Henry and Regina approached her tentatively, her parents not far behind, observing her apprehensively. She offered them a smile that didn’t quite spark any reassurance for herself, but she had gotten good at reassuring people even when she was terrified out of her mind. Unwillingly, she released her iron grip on the hilt, her magic buzzing on the tips of her fingers.

Placing a comforting hand on Henry’s shoulder, she said, “Come on, I want to place as much distance between us and Camelot as possible.”

* * *

As she tightened the last of her bandages, ceasing the excess of the black, blood-like liquid flowing from her right arm, a part of her realized that she shouldn’t at all be surprised Hook had double-crossed them. To get through that thick skull of his, she had viciously stomped across his three-hundred-year-old heart. She wondered if in all that time a woman had ever rejected him as she had; the insult was too great to be able to stomach another second with all of them. Unfortunately, she considered it had nothing to do with his dignity and more the fact to do with his sanity. He must have gotten the idea into his mind that Regina was standing in the way of them being together, and that getting rid of her would solve all his problems.

She tried not to dwell too much on him or the sting of his betrayal. Hook was not a good man, and she had known it from the start. No, she dwelled on the fact that it was her fault they’d almost got captured. It was her fault that _Eirdsidh_ had nearly gotten his hands on Regina. _Again_. That day’s mess was her fault. She might as well have flashed a big neon sign with her magic to ensure he knew their _exact_ location.

“Hey.” Emma looked up to see Regina sauntering up towards her, away from where she and Robin had been talking. A glance over towards the man confirmed her suspicions that Zelena had once again claimed his attention. She glared at him for a moment before looking back at Regina. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

She wanted to rebuff the statement, lie, and tell Regina that she was fine, but she knew the woman had every right to accuse her of it. Emma hadn’t said two words to them since they wandered into the thick, dense forest, the mist and the ruins that stretched out between the trees swallowing them whole. If Emma hadn’t had a good sense of direction or knew how to get herself around the world after the months she had spent aimlessly drifting, she would have assumed they were lost.

What surprised her though, was that no-one even attempted to make conversation with her. It was as if they were afraid to ask her questions now, knowing she wouldn’t answer, or they were terrified of learning something that they would rather have been blissful of. Keeping her distance from them, keeping her focus on their safety by shutting them out was starting to take its toll. Even her parents seemed a little weary of her.

Except Henry and Regina.

They put in the extra effort; they made sure to let her know they understood, even when they didn’t. The thought of them, their warmth and love, made her smile.

“What?” Regina asked, confused. “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking.” She pulled up her shoulders, watching the playful glint forming in Regina’s eyes.

“Thinking? Hmm, isn’t that dangerous for you, dear?”

“Funny,” she deadpanned. “You know, does it ever occur to you that you’re not as amusing as you think yourself to be? Sarcasm and insults don’t usually spark humour in others.”

“A bold-faced lie, if I’ve ever heard one, or perhaps you’re correct and there’s something wrong with you. I’ve often found that you quite enjoy my jests.”

“‘Jests’? What is this – the twelfth century?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, yes, dear.” Regina’s lips pull into a teasing smile of her own, and even though she always managed to stay several steps ahead in their battles of witticism, Emma couldn’t help but feel pride. Pride that she was the reason that beautiful smile had graced the woman’s lips. “So, tell me, what have you been brooding about in all of this time? It’s not because of the pirate, is it?”

“Is it horrible that I hope he’d just been eaten by something rather than him leading the Wild Hunt straight to us?”

“No, it’s not. Why, it would make a lot more sense than him having the intellectual capability to find a way to summon _Eirdsidh_. Betrayal _does_ fit his M.O., but he’s too much of a Neanderthal to pull it off.”

“Actually,” Emma interjected, heaving out a sigh, “it’s not that hard. He could summon _Eirdsidh_ just by saying his name three times like all the Dark Ones. He doesn’t like being summoned, makes him feel like a bell boy, but he would be able to sense who it was. The bastard knows me, so by extension he would know Hook, too.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The statement left Regina’s mouth with a sense of dread, as if she were actually disappointed. “I would have preferred it if he had been mauled by an animal or magical creature; the thought of seeing him again makes me wonder what curse would be more efficient – turning him into a toad or a small fuzzy bunny.”

“Bunnies are cute – why would you punish their species like that?”

“My dear, I was a queen in another life, and I quite enjoyed the thrill of the hunt myself. I’d known a few bloodhounds in those days.”

Emma glanced sideways, considering. “You know, that’s a pretty tough one, ‘cause I know a few spells that require toad’s guts and the opportunity to finally scream _Release the hounds_ is on my top ten _the Simpson’s_ quotes list.”

“Decisions, decisions.” Regina sighed wistfully. “How ever will we choose?”

They laughed together like the countless nights spent drinking together, like Marvel binging movie nights and Friday night cooking lessons. For a moment, Emma found herself back in 108 Mifflin Street, seated on the Den’s couch, throwing popcorn kernels at Regina alongside their son and arguing why they _needed_ to watch Iron Man for the second night in a row. Emma could smell creamy scent of lasagna and taste like the sweet, sugary buñuelos Henry selfishly hogged, but had the heart to spare her half a piece.

There was so much to say, so much that played on the tip of her tongue, because she owed them answers now that they weren’t in immediate danger. She could see it on the other’s faces, the way they looked at her expectantly, entitled to the knowledge she had been keeping to herself for the past week. But she allowed her that moment, where Regina wasn’t caught up in the mess Emma had created when she brought Marian (or was it Zelena?) back from the past, and Emma was finally, _finally_ allowing herself not to be consumed by expectations and prophecies.

“Emma?” Regina said tentatively, taking her arm and pulling her out of her pleasant thoughts. “Is there something you want to talk about? Perhaps whatever seems to keep your mind continuously drifting off into space?”

Millions of voices spoke at once in her mind, and a part of her wondered if any of them were even her own. She knew that she should, at one point, talk about the past six months, if just for their benefit and putting a stop to _Eirdsidh_ and corrupt kings like Arthur, but Emma had always been a master procrastinator.

Instead, like the blundering brute she was, blurted, “Are you happy?” It wasn’t like she _hadn’t_ actively been thinking about it. That thought was always in her mind, from the moment she plunged Rumple’s dagger into the abyss, the very first leap of faith she had ever taken. She remembered lying awake under the stars, wondering, and hoping that her sacrifice, that her suffering was all so that Regina could be happy with their son. “I mean, are you… are you happy? Has Robin been treating you well? Has Henry been a good boy? Are you…? It wasn’t for nothing, right?”

Regina looked slightly taken aback; she certainly hadn’t been expecting their light-hearted conversation to take such a drastic turn. She seemed surprise as well, uncertain how to phrase an answer that didn’t make Emma’s heart ache.

“Henry’s _always_ a good boy,” she said with soft, stern conviction, and Emma wanted to laugh. Her mind scolded her for even suggesting that Henry wouldn’t be good to her. “He takes care of me; he _has been_ taking care of me.”

“Good… that’s good, but…” Emma huffed, flaring her nostrils. “I mean, I’m glad he’s been taking care of you. He… He’s the man of the house.” She wanted to add _While I’m gone_ , but she had a feeling it would be weird and imply something that she couldn’t even admit to herself. Besides, she knew that Regina could take care of herself; she didn’t need anyone to play hero for her. “I just… That didn’t really answer my question – are you happy?”

“That’s an unfair question, Emma.”

“Why?”

“Because none of us have seen you in over six months,” Regina replied defensively, looking away with hurt flashing in her eyes. “You – You’ve been gone and we… How can you just assume we’d be happy without you?”

“Oh.” Emma’s brows knitted together, the thought of people missing her still alien after all that time. Sometimes she still forgot that they wanted her; it easily slipped her mind that they weren’t just some foster family that meant well and had a family of their own, and as long as she was good, as long as she could stay out of trouble, she could stay. “Sometimes I forget.”

Regina looked horrified at the confession, the confession that Emma hadn’t actually meant to give, but a few minutes in the woman’s presence and she was saying more than she had said in a month. “Emma, I hope we’ve never… that _I_ ’ve never made you feel like—”

“No,” Emma smiled wanly. “It’s not you guys. Sometimes I forget that you don’t just tolerate me. That’s not your fault; it’s something I have to work on my own.”

“Emma…”

“I’m okay.” The words were automatic, like a kneejerk reaction. “Regina, I’m _fine_. Don’t read too much into the shit that comes out of my mouth.” She placed a soothing hand on Regina’s elbow. “Come on, I think we should stop up ahead; the others are starting to lag.”

She pushed ahead, ignoring the forlorn look on Regina’s face and the sad eyes that seemed to burn a hole into her very existence.


	7. The Arrogant Palm of A Small Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. My classes are starting this week, and because I'm a masochist I have Advanced Mathematics and Chemistry. I'm not sure how the posting schedule will work, but I do have a few chapters lined up and I'm planning on writing on the weekends.
> 
> Thanks for all the wonderful comments and kudos! It really helps me going, so feel free to write as many comments as you want. I love super long ones, so don't be shy. I read every single one of them, so don't think that I'll ignore them.

* * *

_Sometimes I forget…_

Emma’s words rung in her ears all through the evening, like the aftereffect of an explosion. She wondered how many families had made her believe that people were most happy when she wasn’t there. How many times had Emma thought of that single mendacity throughout those six months? Had she come to believe that they had forgotten about her altogether? In her mind, had she lost hope that they would search for her?

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so furious – utterly consumed by her rage with the constant impulse to set something or someone ablaze. There were times when Regina could see Emma’s pain as clear as the day itself, the way she fell apart at the seams even while bearing the brightest of smiles, and Regina hated the fact that she sometimes wouldn’t be able to understand. Their depths of loneliness and rejection were the same, and yet so very different. Her life wasn’t perfect, her childhood a nightmare, but her father had so often been her saving grace. Daddy had been there as best he could under the circumstances. Emma hadn’t had anyone; she had no one to remind her that she was lovable and wanted.

These troubling thoughts, her festering anger, continue to plague her well into the evening after they had eaten and gathered around the campfire for a moment’s reprieve. In the past week, it had been a routine to tell stories as the flames danced on every piece of firewood David would toss into the pile. Belle would read a book she kept close at hand that was filled with tales of heroism in other lands, or Robin would grace them with a tale of the good days when he and his Merry Men would galivant around Sherwood Forest. He would glance her way, smiling as if they shared a secret, and often she would send a forced one his way.

How long would it be before she stopped fooling herself and called it off?

Tonight, however, the group was quiet, caught in the reality of the dangers around them, huddled in the shelter of crumbled cobblestone, barely escaping the soft pitter patter of the rain. Even the dwarves kept to themselves, murmuring amongst one another as if they were afraid the ruins would be able to hear them. Tension was thick and a nervousness settled in Regina’s chest as Henry scooted closer to her, watching the shadows dance on the stonewalls of what could once have been a beautiful monastery.

Emma marched out from the treeline with arms full of firewood. Belle trailed behind her, stumbling to keep up with the blonde’s pace, eyes wide and frightful as if she had seen a ghost. They threw the firewood onto the rest of the pile, Emma leaving one in her grasp to toss it leisurely into the fire. She smiled at them, carefree and relaxed, as she plopped down next to them on her acclaimed bedroll.

“What’s with the long faces?” she asked, looking out across the rest of them huddled together like frightened ducklings. “You guys aren’t seriously worried about this place?”

Snow smiled wanly at her daughter, shrugging her shoulders. “We would be lying if we said we weren’t.” She looked out into the large, crooked trees, the shadows watching them with indecipherable intent. “This place is a little… ominous.”

“Or the paranoia about what legends surround these woods is starting to get to you.” Emma scoffed, looking thoroughly amused. “It’s nothing sinister, I promise. _Eirdsidh_ and the Wild Hunt is just wary about this place because of the witch. And I'm just respectful of the power that she holds here.”

“Witch?” Henry perked his head up from the safety of Regina’s shoulder, looking over at Emma. “What witch?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know the story about the Witch of Whittler Cottage?” Regina watched in fascination as Henry emerged out from under her arm and little Roland from the comfort from his father’s lap, all the while shaking their heads in unison. Emma made an exasperated face and stood, unsheathing her sword, and swung it about. She stopped a few feet from them, leaning forward on the weapon as she faced them. “Oh, we’ll have to fix that, now, won’t we?”

Emma waved a hand over the fire, blue and white sparks of magic tingeing at the tips of her fingers. The flames flickered, orange and red shifting to become a beautiful hue of Olympic and Sapphire. It plunged their surroundings into a blue light, illuminating their faces with the softest of hues. From the flames immerged the image of a beautiful castle, sat atop a hill.

“To know about the Witch,” Emma began, eyes flickering with mischief as she turned to her spectators, each enamored with the blonde’s theatrics, “we have to go back to the old legend in this forest – the Legend of… _Mor’du_.”

Regina jumped in fright, as did several of the others when birds were sent into flight nearby, lightning flashing in the distance, but the rain continued to drizzle on softly, the winds remaining unchanged.

“There once was a prosperous kingdom, beautiful and flourishing across the land.” The flames shifted to reveal an old man seated on a throne, four men kneeling in front of him. “It was ruled by a king whose wisdom was equaled by the love of his people. The king had four sons, each gifted in his own way.”

The men who were kneeling in front of their father stood to their full height, adorned in their clan’s kilts, tribal paintings adoring their skin. In the image, they pounded their chests proudly, as if to honor their father or perhaps boast about themselves to him.

Roland left his father’s side completely, opting to move closer towards the flames, watching the characters move around with wild fascination. He giggled when three of the men, the younger sons, held their swords out to him in greeting. With a flurried of rapid movements, he rounded the fire and jumped into Henry’s lap, wearing the largest grin Regina had ever seen as he pointed towards the fire. Henry smiled and indulged the boy, leaning down to look exactly where he was pointing.

Emma stepped closer to the flames, the light enveloping her face in an ominous glow. It danced in her eyes as she turned her attention to the story being told.

“The youngest was wise, the third was compassionate, the second son was just, and the king’s eldest son was strong.” The kings and three of the sons faded away leaving only the eldest son alone in the flames. The color of the flames shifted, shadows dancing in between. “But he mistook great strength for character.”

Emma looked up at the others, bringing her sword to rest on her shoulder. She paused, glancing across their faces as she searched for something Regina wasn’t quite certain of. She walked, circling the fire to watch them from a different angle. Waving her hand again, the eldest son disappeared as well. The next scene was of the king laying on his deathbed, his sons surrounding him in his final moments.

“One dark autumn, the king grew ill. On his death bed, he proclaimed the crown wouldn’t pass to the eldest, but that he would divide the rule – that the combined gifts of the brothers would make an even greater kingdom. But the eldest son felt disgraced.”

Shocked gasps escaped the group when the flames flashed, sparks of lighting sizzling within the borders of the fire. Roland whimpered softly, hiding safely against Henry, and watching through the gaps of his fingers, too enamored by the tale to turn away.

The eldest brother could be seen seated on the throne of his father, slumped against the stone with a look of displeasure etched into his handsome features. He looked up over the group, murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

“Believing that he alone should be the sole heir, a seed of selfishness grew in him. To his brothers, he declared his claim and demanded their obedience, shattering the bonds of their brotherhood.” Cries of war echoed into the air around them, four armies marching towards one another on a battlefield. “Words turned to war, brother fought brother, and the fate of this great kingdom was forever changed.”

The brothers’ armies clashed, weapons clinking, armor groaning. Regina’s heart clenched at the sight, the thought of a sibling’s pride causing so much pain and chaos. She looked up across the flames at Zelena, watching as regret and shame twisted on her pale features. The redhead looked up at her, their eyes locking for a breath, and for a moment Regina believed that things could be better, that their story didn’t have to end in bloodshed like this.

“The prince commanded a powerful army, but the battle remained a bitter stalemate. Starving for a victory, the prince cursed his fate. He stalked the woods, coming to rest in an ancient ring of stones.” Pillars rose into the sky, situated in the formation of a great ring. Their shadows fell over the prince, plunging him into darkness. A small, glowing ball of light, a little being, appeared to the prince, illuminating him in the abyss. “The Will-o-the-wisp appeared, drawing, guiding, him to the edge of a dark forest where a tiny cottage awaited.”

Roland perked up, leaping onto his knees as he pointed into the flames. “The Witch!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. The group let out a soft chuckle, amused by his enthusiasm.

For a moment, Emma broke character from the dark and ominous storyteller, her eyes dancing with mirth as she regarded the boy. “That’s right, kiddo. It’s the witch’s cottage.” She turned away, her smile fading. “He demanded that she created a spell that would change his fate; the strength of ten, he desired, and offered his signet ring to persuade her.”

“Uh-oh!” Roland chorused, crawling back against Henry. “Did she do it? Did she give him the strength of ten men?”

Robin looked as though he wanted to shush the boy, scold him perhaps for interrupting the tale yet again, but Emma only smiled and continued, cutting off whatever had been on the tip of his father’s tongue, “The witch could see the wounded soul behind his bluster, and so she made him a spell that offered him a choice – to fulfil his dark wish, or heal the family bonds he had broken. Baiting his brothers with a false truce, the prince claimed his kingdom, and to the brothers’ protests he stood before them and drank the spell.”

The flames erupted in vile tornado of magic, the eldest brother shifting and changing. It swirled, sparks cracking and making the group gasp at the sight.

“At that moment, the spell took effect, giving him strength tenfold.” The eldest brother shimmered in the fire, his form becoming that of a great beast. “But, to his surprise, in the form of a great, black bear. Still, there was the spell breaker she had given him – if only he had mended the bond torn by pride! Instead, he accepted the shape of the monster, and defeated his brothers.”

The beast swiped his paw at his brothers, his claws tracking golden tresses across them before the flames flickered and returned to its blue hue.

“He returned to command his army, but they saw only the beast. They took arms against him, he slew a great many, and the rest fled the kingdom in terror.” Emma came to rest against her sword again, leaning her weight onto it as the tip pressed into the cobblestone beneath her feet. “With the armies of the brother’s fractured, the kingdom collapsed into darkness, and the blight of the Great Black _Mor’du_ fell across his domain. Desiring power tore the bonds of their family. _Mor’du_ has wondered endlessly, his soul forever buried inside the scarred and tormented shell.”

“Aw, what?” Henry complained, frowning up at his mother. “That’s such a sad story! Why would you tell us something like that?”

“It’s not just a story,” Emma insisted, her tone gentle but firm. “Legends… are _lessons_ ; they ring with truth. If _Mor’du_ had chosen to mend the bond he had torn between his brothers, he could have changed the outcome of the tale – he had the power to save them, to save his kingdom – but because of his pride, he chose a different path. The witch gave him a choice, and he chose wrongly.”

The sapphire morphed back to orange, Olympian blue into red, and Emma sheathed her sword. She watched the fire for a moment, listening as it crackled and sizzled before she marched back over to her bedroll. She collapsed on the material, looking back at the group as they all watched her intently.

“We should turn in for the night, we have a busy day tomorrow.” Emma smiled reassuringly at Henry and Roland. “Don’t be too worried about the Witch or _Mor’du_. If they had wanted to gobble you up, they would have done it the minute we set foot here.”

“And you would protect us!” Roland exclaimed, launching onto his feet. "You would raise your mighty sword and bring it down on anyone who wanted to hurt your family!"

Emma laughed, tilting her head back as amusement rolled off her in waves. She looked back at Roland, giving him the most serious of looks. “You got that right, kiddo. I’m the saviour, and no-one’s gonna mess with you guys while I’m around.”

Regina couldn’t help but feel the weight her words carried. There was another meaning to them besides just silly folklore of a fabled enchantress and a cursed, mindless beast that endlessly roamed the land, leaving destruction in his wake.

“Roland.” Regina was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Robin’s stern voice. “Come here.”

She frowned at the look of displeasure she saw there, the fierce glare directed towards Emma. The blonde took the man’s seething in stride, wiping her nose before she began the process of stripping the scabbard off her side in preparation of the evening ahead.

“Can’t I sleep here with Regina?” the boy pouted, frowning at his father. “I want to cuddle with her and Henry.”

“No,” Robin responded, firmer that time. “Come here, boy.”

Roland sighed, looking like he wanted to argue, but then thought better of it. He trotted back over to his father, settling between him and Zelena, still pouting furiously.

Regina turned back to Emma, watching her profile as the woman stared into the fire, distant and cold. When Emma looked at her, feeling Regina’s eyes boring into her, she smiled and held her hand out. She accepted it and returned the smile when she received an affectionate squeeze.

“Get some rest,” Emma insisted, soft and caring. “I’ll be able to sleep through the night now. He can’t touch us in this land.”

“Are you certain?”

“The Forest is sacred ground; legend says that the witch cast a protection spell here all those years ago to keep those whose hearts were twisted like _Mor’du’s_ from ever entering again.” Emma gave her hand a last squeeze before releasing. “We’re safe here, Regina; you can rest now.”

“And you? Are you going to rest?”

“Yes.” The scar on Emma’s temple twitched and Regina knew she was lying. “Go to sleep.”

She wanted to protest, but Henry was already coaxing her back against the bedroll, cuddling against her like he hadn’t done since a child, like he hadn’t done since before that week. Regina sighed and gave up hope of fighting against their requests, both verbal and non.

* * *

Surprisingly, their trip through the forest passed by uneventfully – or at least as insipid as possible with no siting of danger. They leave the mystical place behind them, along with Camelot and all the troubles they had found there. Realistically, Regina knew they would have to return, and soon. _Eirdsidh_ had dark and twisted plans that involved her, and King Arthur was out for Emma’s blood – thirst for it, _yearned_ for it. At some point, they were going to have to face them again, they were going to have to face what had happened to Emma in the months she’d been gone. But they were there now, safe and sound, carefree and unbothered by the darkness that licked at their heels. They could enjoy the interlude while it lasted.

Emma was surprisingly well versed with the area, taking small detours on the route of the castle to show them the _sights_. Apparently, _Dun Broch_ brought out the storyteller in her as she relayed the legends behind each one. Regina wondered if it had something to do with this _friend_ that would offer them a place to stay, because in the span of an hour she had mentioned the woman with the fiery red hair, Merida, at least four or five times. She wanted to squash the heartburn that rose into her throat like the insipid bug it was, all too familiar with the feeling of jealousy.

They stopped by a stream for a drink of water, their canteens having runout the previous evening, and eagerly fill them up for the rest of the journey. Wherever they were going couldn’t be much farther now, less than a two-hour walk from the forest, she remembered Emma telling them.

She knelt next to Emma just as the woman plunged her hands into the water, washing her dirt-covered features. It was obvious how much they shared a similar desire for a warm bath, or perhaps just the opportunity for a proper wash.

“So, you and this Merida woman,” Regina prompted, desperately trying to keep the bitterness from her voice, “you’re close?”

“Relatively,” Emma shrugged, still smiling even as Regina’s lip twisted, turning subtly up in distaste. “I owe her my life.”

“How so?”

“Well, when I first came here, I appeared near a village in Camelot. _Eirdsidh_ , he found me, introduced himself and…” Emma’s breath hitched, and a concerned frown crossed Regina’s brow, her heart clenching. “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t really that good with my magic yet. He hurt me, badly, and Merida found me in the woods. She helped me to the village and paid to get me the treatment I needed. From then on, she and the others have become my friends – they help me with what I need, and I help them out where I can.”

“The others? You mean there’s more people you’ve befriended?”

“Audrey and Sweets,” she explained, rising from the stream alongside Regina. “Audrey’s a blacksmith, she designed my… well, she’s helped me with armor over the last few months, and Sweets a doctor, a really good one. He treated my wounds when I first came here. He and Audrey both risked their lives for me when Arthur’s men came looking for me. At the time, the knights had already burned down like two villages looking for me, and they were gonna burn down that village too. They were convinced the people were harboring me.”

“Did they? Burn down the village, that is?”

“Audrey and Sweets hid me in a trapdoor beneath the forge, and they were planning on doing just that, but Audrey convinced them not to. She’s quite the negotiator.”

“Well,” Regina smiled, placing a hand on Emma’s wrist, “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner, but I’m thankful you had someone. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

“Me too,” Emma grinned, flashing her teeth. “I can’t wait for you to meet them – especially Audrey. She’s like a version of you – stubborn, passionate, constantly calls me an idiot – only without the refinement. She’s a bit of a gearhead, if you ask me, but I think the two of you are gonna get along swell.”

“Well, I think it’s good that you had someone to keep you on your toes.” Regina’s heart warmed at the sheepish smile Emma offered her, the blonde rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “So long as you remember that’s my job.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emma mock saluted. “Or should I be saying, your majesty?”

“Hmm, the latter has a nice ring to it. Especially coming from you.” Regina could feel the heat rising to her cheeks when Emma’s smile only brightened, and her knees quivered at the amorous display of raw, honest affection. It was a dangerous game she was playing, teetering on the precipice of their friendship boundaries, but when Emma’s eyes shined like that, the pirate nowhere in sight and no longer even an option, Regina couldn’t help herself, forbidden fruits and soulmates be damned.

She was about to say more, continue in their dangerous exchange of jests when Robin whistled and called out to her, “Regina!”

Glancing over, she had to resist the urge to gape at him as he motioned for her, summoning her as though she was the average mutt at his beck and call. Tension rapidly rose in the air as the others noticed the utter disrespect shown to her in the moment. Emma seemed livid, clenching her fists and jaw as she glared at the far end of the stream where Robin stood. David and Snow stood nearby, sharing a look with one another before puffing their cheeks in unison and releasing an awkward exhale.

Emma gripped her elbow, the hold gentle but steady, giving her the option to pull away. “Tell me you’re not going to indulge that prick.”

“I most certainly will not,” she huffed, bending back down to wash her hands in the stream. Any blood spilt from that point on was not of her doing; her conscience would be clear. “I am not a dog, nor am I a whore on the corner of a street. If he wishes to speak with me, he’ll grow a pair and march himself over here.”

“Can I kick his ass?” Emma asked, watching as Robin approach with a look of displeasure spread out across his features.

“In a moment, dear. Let him speak first.”

The blond marched all the way from downstream, a scowl etched into his usually handsome features. He glared at Emma when he came to full stop, sizing her up. Emma rolled her eyes, resting her hand on her sword, but otherwise remaining indifferent to the blatant challenge.

“If you don’t mind?” Sarcasm dripped from his thick, roguish accent, and Regina considered that Emma’s awfully patient. A few months ago, she would have downright assaulted him for less. “I’d like to have a private conversation with Regina.”

“I actually do mind,” Emma scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “You just whistled, like some fucking dog trainer, for her to come. That’s the mother of my child, and I don’t like the example you’re setting for our son.”

“Oh, bugger off, will you?” he snapped, stepping into Emma’s personal space, and shoving against her chest.

Regina was about to cry out, scold him for his barbarous behavior, but she was stunned into an awed silence. Where she and Robin had been confident Emma would stumble, or perhaps even fall over, she remained a brick wall, steady and unmoving. Instead, the situation was in reverse, and it was Robin who stumbled and nearly tipped over.

Emma stared at him, her magic churning chaotically beneath the surface and edging against Regina’s, but her face set into a dangerously stoic expression. She moved forward, looking about as ready as she would ever be to snap Robin’s neck. Thankfully, this spurred Regina into a reaction, and she hurriedly stepped between them, placing a steady hand on each of their chests.

“Enough, both of you.” She could feel Emma’s magic calm, shame seeping out of her, and Regina fixed her attention on Robin. “I don’t condone violence, and I certainly don’t condone it in front of my son. I suggest you calm down, Robin of Locksley, preferably before I lose any and all patience with you. Take a walk, and we’ll speak once you’ve come to your senses.”

“But—”

“Walk,” she ordered, pointing off into a direction, “or so help me, I’ll make you rue the day you ever met me.”

Robin huffed, but did as he was told, not willing to risk his health any more than he already had. He stomped off, shoving his hands into his pockets like a moody teenager while they watched on. A relieved sigh escaped Regina when he opted to help David and Snow with the horses, and she turned towards Emma.

The blonde glanced down at her feet, jaw still clenched, unable to meet Regina’s eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest before boldly declaring, “I’m gonna shove my foot so far up his ass he’ll—”

“Emma,” she admonished, but was unable to keep a small smile from gracing her lips. It would be a bold lie if she said she wasn’t flattered by Emma’s fierce need to protect her, the fierce loyalty and care presented so easily and without hesitation. “I know his recent behavior angers you—”

“Anger is not the word I’d use.” Emma looked up in Robin’s direction, catching the man’s narrowed eyes. “What the fuck is his problem? I can’t even begin to understand where this sudden hatred is coming from, because as far as I know, I’ve only been nice to the guy.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with you, and more with the fact that you’re the reason I’ve put our relationship on hold. He’s upset that we’re taking a break, and now he’s directed that anger to you.”

Emma frowned, looking over at Regina with a concerned gaze, “You guys are taking a break? Since when?”

“Since the night you disappeared,” Regina sighed, offering a wanly smile. “Between finding a way to you, taking care of Henry, the town, and making sure your parents don’t fling themselves in front of oncoming traffic, I came to the conclusion that I needed to put all of my energy in what mattered most.”

“And your relationship with Robin doesn’t?”

“Well, of course it does.” She looked to where Robin had now turned his full attention to Emma’s horse, brushing his fingers through the animal’s mane. “Or it did, but…” Regina closed her eyes, shaking her head before looking into Emma’s wide, attentive gaze. “With everything that’s happened with my sister… Well, to answer your question from earlier, he hasn’t been treating me as well as he should, and perhaps that’s selfish to say, but… To tell you the truth, he hasn’t made me very happy since the whole Marian debacle.”

Emma pulled a face, wincing, “Is it because he seduced you in your family crypt with his almost dead wife’s body on ice in the other room?”

She rolled her eyes, slapping Emma’s arm as hard as she could. The sound resonated through the trees and the blonde gripped the skin there in mock pain. “Honestly, Miss Swan, you’re worse than a fourteen-year-old boy. Why do I find it believable that you were one of those girls that giggled like a mad fool at the mere mention of _breasts_?”

A snicker escaped Emma, a pleased look flashing in her eyes before she realized what she was doing. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Of course not, dear,” she scoffed. “It only proves my point.”

Emma huffed out a breath, annoyed at the truthful tease. She fiddled with the hilt of her sword, kicking a stone into the stream before she worked up the courage to continue, “So, uh, what… what are you going to do about the whole thing? I mean, he’s like your soulmate, isn’t he?”

“I… Well, I don’t think he is… Not for a while now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well,” Regina bit her lip, a blush rising to her cheeks. She hadn’t admitted this to anyone, not even to Emma. When she had found out, livid albeit, she had shoved the knowledge so far down that she wouldn’t ever dare bring it up again. Though, there she was, spilling her guts, bearing her soul to Emma as always. Perhaps it was the look in the blonde’s eyes, the reassurance that her heart would always be safe, or perhaps it was just the way Emma looked at her, like she would do anything to protect her from harm. “A few weeks after Robin had left with _Marian_ and Roland, Tink and I researched the spell she had used and discovered a number of flaws in it.”

“You did?” Emma’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree, unable to help herself, and even though Regina should at least be mildly upset that her best friend didn’t even slightly care for Robin, she found her heart soaring at the sight of those perfect dimples. “Don’t hold out on me now! Tell me everything!”

Regina laughed, touching Emma’s elbow, “Settle down, dear. We found that the spell, if one’s soulmate is not yet born, or had perhaps died, will search for the same qualities and pick out the nearest match, in which case would be Robin.”

“Aw what?” Emma pouted. “So, this person you’re supposed to be with will be someone like Robin?”

“No, dear, they will have similar qualities. For instance, Robin has many of fine qualities, like being a good parent, his bravery, his charms or perhaps physical attributes like hair color.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” A considering look passed over Emma’s face, and she tilted her head to the side curiously. “So, did you use it – the spell? Did you check again?”

Regina shook her head. “I thought I’d leave it up to fate.”

“Like seriously?”

“Fate hasn’t always treated me well, but I’ve never been patient enough to see how things would work out.” She moved her hand, gracing Emma’s hand with her fingers before intertwining their pinkies. “Who knows? Perhaps a little forbearance will be my saving grace.”

Emma swallowed thickly, her magic swirling as it interweaved with Regina’s, their cheeks tingeing pink. “Yeah… maybe…”

* * *

They heard the riders before they saw them, the hooves of the horses thudding on the luscious soft grass, weaving through the trees, splashing in the small stream. It was a group of clansmen and women, heavily armed and looking none-too-pleased with the outlanders in their kingdom. The others reach for their weapons, prepared to fight if necessary, and Regina raised her hand to conjure a bright, churning flame, but Emma immediately seized her wrist and held a hand out to the others, warning them not to draw their weapons.

The warriors stopped their horses a few inches from Emma, nearly running her over. A Scottish woman, hair as fiery as the setting sun, set ablaze like a scorching flame and weaving curls like the waves upon the shore lead them on a black and white steed. She was dressed in a durable blue dress, torn here and there from riding, a bow and quiver a ready against her back. She had fierce blue eyes that cut into Regina, and had she been a lesser woman instead of the Queen she was, she would have cowered.

Emma stood firm, her face stoic and unyielding as the woman leapt from her animal and came to stand directly in front of her. She was less than an inch shorter than her, somewhat taller than Regina, but she sized the blonde up, her jaw clenched, fingers twitching as if she was preparing to reach for her bow.

A few moments passed, nervousness clenching in Regina’s stomach as well as fear and worry. She desperately wanted to reach out towards Emma, find comfort in her steadiness, but she couldn’t allow herself the reason to let the blonde appear weak. Not with the threat of the unknown staring them in the face.

But then the unimaginable happened.

A grin, wider than possibly even Emma’s best, spread out across the woman’s face and she held her arms out towards Emma, exclaiming her cheer as she spoke in a language that Regina didn’t recognize. She stepped forward, pressing her forehead against Emma’s like a familiar lover or a fellow brother or sister on the battlefield as cheers from the other clan members erupted.

Emma smiled almost just as brightly, accepting the embrace by gripping the woman’s arms, not quite pulling her into an embrace and returning the greeting wholeheartedly. She would have allowed herself a moment of confusion, especially when the language seemed to slip off her tongue so effortlessly, but then the pair turned towards her.

“Merida, this is Regina and the rest of our family. Regina, this is the woman I told you about.”

And that was when the lightbulb illuminated the answer.

Merida smiled and stepped into her personal space, embracing her as she had Emma. “Ah have heard much about you. It is an honor – truly. Emma tells many a great tales about you, Regina, but she had not been exaggerating when she spoke of yer beauty.”

Regina’s eyes widened, but before she could sputter like a babbling fool, Emma rammed her fist into Merida’s shoulder, the redhead stumbled but otherwise remained unaffected, except for the maniacal mischief that flashed in her eyes.

“Excuse her majesty,” Emma grunted, glaring at Merida. “She’s nothing if not renowned for her lack of inhibition.”

“You call it inhibition, Ah call it pure, raw honesty. Perhaps you should try it, lass?”

Merida went around, greeting them all with merry and welcoming warmth. She was kind and caring, the spirit of a true leader, born and raised to command and deserve respect and devotion. In the short introduction, Regina found that she and Emma were like two peas in a pod, stubborn and prideful, behaving more like mischievous siblings than the adults they were supposed to be.

Regina hadn’t known much of the Clan Dun Broch or any other kingdoms outside of the ones nearest to her own, nor had she ever cared to wonder why they didn’t attend feasts and other celebrations even when she knew that the White kingdom often invited them to join in before she had risen to power.

On the way to their training grounds nearby, a short ride from the castle, they learned that the redheaded Scot was apparently the Princess of Clan Dun Broch, the ruling monarchy of the four clans. She was heir to the throne of Scotland with three younger brothers around Henry’s age, turning twenty-seven in a few short moons. Her father, Fergus, The Bear King, would soon be relinquishing the throne to her on the eve of her birthday and with it all the responsibility that it bared.

Merida appeared to be proud as she spoke of her family, and it was easy to see that she loved them dearly. Her outlook didn’t change when she spoke of her kingdom and her people, a true Highlander that lived and breathed for a flag of white and blue, and even more eager to assist Emma in offering her family and friends shelter and food for their bellies. She expressed as much with a simple statement of, “Family and friends of Emma, are family and friends of mine”, spurring her horse into a gallop.

Over the hills and tresses of lavishing green, the meadow spreading out into a clearing between the vast forestry, awaited several large, white tents. The training grounds contained targets for archery and a small, sandy area where two burly clansmen were engaging in intense swordplay as others gathered around. Other clan members moved in and out of the camp by horse or by foot, carrying supplies or heading off for patrol.

They stopped near the largest of the tents, the royal signet of the Clan Dun Broch embroidered on two flags flanking each side of the entrance. Merida motioned to one of the clanswomen, and she approached to relieve them of their horses. The princess stepped into the tent and Emma led the way after her, the large shelter able to fit them all as well as two of Merida’s company. In the middle of the area, there was a large mahogany carven desk, documents and other parchments littering every corner, a quill resting in an inkpot waiting patiently on top of a stray paper.

“Ah think there’s been enough pleasantries, Emma,” Merida declared, leaning onto the table. One of her men pushed her chair closer and she took a seat before he helped ease her all the way against the desk. She intertwined her fingers and leaned forward on her elbows, the warm and welcoming expression replaced by a hard and stoic look. “While Ah am glad that yer family has found you, there are matters we must discuss.”

“Right,” Emma sighed. “ _Eirdsidh_ and Arthur.”

“Aye, and…” the princess shifted uncomfortably, jaw clenching. “Have you made any progress on finding the stone?”

Emma shot a glance towards the others, but even as Regina sent her an inquiring look, the blonde remained steadfast. “No. The lead was a dead end.”

“Damn. Naught to do about it now.” Merida sighed as she turned her attention away from Emma. “I trust that Emma has filled ye in on the blight upon our lands?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know much beyond the fact that this Dark One is after Emma and Regina,” Snow responded, looking between David and Merida. “We know of the prophecy and that he wants to use Regina, but other than that we’re left in the dark.”

Merida raised an eyebrow, looking at Emma as she offered a sheepish smile. “What of King Arthur and his part in this?”

“All we know is that he is after Emma for some reason as well,” David supplied, shrugging his shoulders. “We were hoping, now that we’re here, that we would be able to get more answers. Preferably about what we’ve missed in the last six months.”

Merida slowly lowered her hands onto the desk, patting the papers to calm herself. She looked up at Emma as she rose from her chair, narrowing her eyes. “You didna tell them?”

Emma pursed her lips, “We, uh, were kinda busy at the time. You know he’s able to track my magic and invade my mind whenever I’m in Camelot, so there wasn’t any chance of telling them there. Plus, we had a run-in with Arthur and then the Hunt and afterwards just seemed a little strenuous.”

“ _Emma_ ,” Merida scolded, tone fierce and filled with disappointment. “We have discussed this.”

“Discussed what?” Regina inquired, raising an eyebrow. “What have you discussed?”

Emma and Merida shared a look, a fierce argument breaking out between them without even a single word needing to be spoken. Quiet worry crept up onto Regina, like a spider weaving its web, coiling, and knotting in her chest. The winner, allegedly Merida, crossed her arms over her chest, a stern look adorning her pale features.

“Either you tell them, or Ah will.”

“Tell us what?” Henry had taken a step forward, his brows knitted together. “What’s going on, Ma?”

Emma looked at him with morose, defeated eyes, drooping her shoulders. She sighed, deeply and laboriously, before turning to look back at Merida. “We’ll, uh, we’ll be back in a little while. I think we all need to be alone for this.”

The redhead nodded, returning to her seat. “When you’ve finished, there’s still much to discuss. Ah’ll send word to the castle, request an audience with da and mother, but we’re likely to leave around dusk at earliest. Ah still have some things that need to be done here.”

“Sure,” Emma chuckled, but it was half-hearted. Not at all like the bright and bubbling mess of a woman Regina knew. “Come on, guys. You’re gonna want to sit down for this.”

She led them out towards a firepit not far from the encampment, logs spread out around the charred sticks and stones in the center. Even as Regina had no desire to sit, too irate to do anything other than stand and wait for the freight train that was surely about to strike them, Emma convinced her to settle down next to Henry. She held onto the boy as though her life depended upon it, keeping him close in preparation of the inevitable.

What Regina knew was that Leopold must have done something horrible to her, something that Emma couldn’t speak about, something that Merida somehow knew. While that single fact scorched Regina’s soul, knowing that Emma was willing to share her hurt with the Scot, it also caused her unspeakable agony to think of what that man must have done to her – to someone who shared his blood.

“So, uh,” Emma began, taking a seat on a log she had pushed right into the center. She stared distantly at them, unable to meet any of their eyes. “This… This isn’t easy for me to talk about. I haven’t told anyone any of this. Merida knows a little cause of feverish mumblings when she found me, but other than that she’s as in the dark as the rest of you.”

“Emma,” Snow interrupted, drawing her daughter’s eyes to her. “Just tell us, sweetheart. Whatever happened, whatever you did or didn’t do, we’re not going anywhere.”

There was a murmur of agreement amongst them, and Regina’s heart broke at the awe that briefly flashed in Emma’s eyes.

“There’s no short supply of people here to help you and care for you, Emma,” David reassured, his voice filled with soft, tentative encouragement. “You can trust us.”

Emma nodded, making her mind up, “Okay, well, it all started when I’d plunged Rumple’s dagger into the darkness…”


	8. Shadows of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post yesterday, but I was still catching up on the work I missed in class and then went to bed like 11. There was every intention of taking out my computer, but then I said, "Hey, why don't you rest your eyes for a few minutes" and that's how I woke up with my cat sleeping on top of me.
> 
> Warning: Reader discretion is advised. There is graphical depictions of violence that may be upsetting to people. There is also implications of past rape, etc. Read at your own risk. There is also implications of PTSD. If these things are triggering to you, then read at your own discretion.

* * *

It was the tenth of May.

They were going to have Sunday Family Lunch at Regina’s before all the crazy nonsense with the fucking Author and Gold. It was Henry’s turn to spend the week with her and Emma had been invited along for the trade-off.

Robin wasn’t invited.

Regina was going to make some fancy Spanish cuisine that Emma couldn’t pronounce. She had been wanting to try out for some time but hadn’t yet taken the time to perfect. Emma and Henry would have been her guinea pigs. They would have laughed along at Emma and Henry’s stupid jokes, and they would have gone for thirds even when the two of them were already stuffed beyond their maximum capacity.

It would have been normal; they would have been a family.

Now, however, Emma had no idea where she was.

She had expected a lot of things to happen when she had taken on the Dark Curse. For one, she had expected to die. She would prefer dying to whatever the hell was going on now. When she had opened her eyes, she was blinded by a white, intense light that immediately made her eyes screw shut. A scowl graced her lips as she rubbed her eyelids with the back of her hands, a few unladylike words tumbling into her mind and threatening to slip passed her lips.

The sun shone through the leaves, falling on the ground with the softest of golden hues, warming Emma’s skin. From what she gathered, she had to be in the middle of a forest. She could hear the odd, eerie chirping of birds in the distance, chatting the day away. The wind rustled the bushes and the tall grass around her, drawing a shiver from her as a chill ran up her spine.

Rumple’s magic brought her to the middle of a _fucking_ forest.

_God, could this day get any worse?_

She grumbled and reluctantly rose to her feet, wishing that she hadn’t left those aspirins she had eyed on her dresser before she had left to deal with the whole Author and Gold debacle. Those would have come in handy right about now.

“Hello.”

Emma yelped at the intrusion in her mind. She stumbled backwards, her head whirling around as she paled, the sickly-sweet voice causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. When she turned around, she could have sworn she had nearly leapt out of her own skin. Her eyes widened as they landed on it, her hands beginning to shake at the sight. All her earlier annoyance seemed to dissipate and replace with an unsettling amount of uncertainty.

There, a mere few feet away, stood a man. He leaned against one of the trees, arms casually crossed over his chest. Dressed in the finest silk, he wore a robe that reached down all the way to his feet, black with odd patterns woven into the material. On his fingers he adorned rings of white-gold and silver, jewels of emeralds and rubies adoring jewels. His skin, a sickly pale, greyish color, and his eyes beady, swallowed whole by some dark abyss. On the side of his face, cracks gaped open, leading all the way to the edge of his eyes, oozing with dark, black magic.

She could feel it, breathing and pulsating; there was a darkness in him even more dangerous than Rumpelstiltskin could have ever been.

She stood there, staring at him, him staring back at her with a sickly smile. As she regarded it with a morbid curiosity, she could feel her stomach tightening and clenching into knots. Her first impulse was to run, to turn and take off with as much speed as possible, but she had no idea if he would follow. For now, he seemed to be calm and the last thing she wanted to do was provoke him.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” The question she wanted to ask was what kind of a _Nightmare Before Christmas_ character he was supposed to represent, but she stilled her smartass of a tongue. Now wasn’t the time to be an idiot.

“ _Oh!_ ” he exclaimed, throwing his voice with genuine excitement ringing through the small space between them. The man’s body shimmered, shifting with magic before he vanished before her very eyes. He reappeared again just behind her, whispering into her ear. “I am so glad you asked!”

Emma jumped, taking a hurried step away from him, but he grabbed her by the arm, keeping her firmly planted in place. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying out as his dark magic poured into her skin, causing it to sizzle. She looked down at his hands – skin pale and grey, nails sharpened and claw-like, digging into her skin.

During her and Regina’s magic lessons, the woman had done her best to shove as much magical lore down her throat, but while little of it stuck in the empty space she referred to as her mind, she knew for a fact that none of those books had mentioned anything like this. She might not be an expert in magic, but this would be strange even for someone like Gold.

“I go by many names. One name you might have for me is _Eirdsidh_ , the Bringer of Death, or you might call me the Black Wolf, as dubbed by the unicorns, or perhaps the King of the Wild Hunt. I am the Treacherous. I am the nightmare that haunts your sleep. But you might know me by my first name, a name I have nearly forgotten, Leopold the White King.”

Her blood ran cold as _Eirdsidh_ gripped her other arm, and she hissed as the skin there began to sizzle too, burning as if she had accidently grazed a hot stove. She prided herself from his touch by a quick jerk and turned around to face the man. She had no idea what her grandfather had looked like, less so in his youth. When she had learned that fairy tales were real, she denounced any relation to him whatsoever, barely even acknowledging his existence whenever Snow brought him up.

This man, however, had an odd familiarity surrounding him that she couldn’t place. She knew that nose, that chin, because Henry flashed through her mind.

_Eirdsidh_ smiled, taking a step forward as she took another back; it was a stalemate between them – a cautious dance choreographed between them. She clenched her fists, and he brightened his smile, neither able to look away. In her belly, she could feel the burning hatred brewing, hatred for the man’s blood that coursed through her veins.

“That’s not possible,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. “Leopold is much older and… very much dead. You’re not him.”

“Correction, I’m not the Leopold you know of.” _Eirdsidh_ began walking, circling her like a predator hunted its prey. She watched with bated breath, following his every movement, even the smallest twitch of his fingers. “I am not of this world; this is not my universe.”

“So, what? You’re like another version of Leopold from another realm – one where you’re still in your late twenties?”

“Precisely – only, I am not in my youth; I am over two-hundred years old. I have the benefit of immortality unlike the Leopold you knew. From what I’ve come to understand, he was weak, possessed no backbone – he let a woman rule him, the same woman that became his downfall.”

Emma took a step forward, puffing out her chest. She could feel her temper rising at the mention of Regina with such little respect. He had no right – no right to think about Regina, no right to breathe the same air, no right to ever even suggest that because she was a woman, she needed to remember her place, which was to remain seen and unheard.

But something shined in _Eirdsidh’s_ eyes. His body shimmered and then he was standing directly in front of her, his sickening grin only spreading as he stared her in the eyes. A revolting feeling enveloped her, starting from her toes, coursing through her ankles, and reaching up, all the way to the last hair on her head.

It was his magic, reaching out from him and into her. The dark essence invaded her skin, burrowing like a pest and attempting to make a home in her body like a virus. It was unlike her own magic; unlike any dark magic she had ever experienced. She could feel its intentions, its overpowering need to destroy and its lust for chaos. The death that it wanted to bring, the urge to kill and murder was so consuming that, for a moment, she thought it belonged to her.

“I can sense her on you,” he said, baring his sharp canines into a victorious smile. “I never thought… I never _dreamed_ that this day would be but a moment’s grasp away.”

Emma’s eyes widened when he reached for her again, grabbing her wrist when she failed to snatch it away again. His nails pierced her flesh again, drawing blood – thick and oozing, dripping onto the grass. She opened her mouth to cry out, but _Eirdsidh_ held his hand out and her throat closed, a strangled noise escaping passed her lips.

“You’ve not yet claimed her,” he continued, pleased, and satisfied by that single fact alone, but Emma could feel herself growing faint, struggling to pour the needed air into her lungs. “Where is she? Where have you hidden her away, Light One?”

She tried to tell him that she didn’t have any clue what the hell he was talking about, desperately trying to mouth the words with what little words she could remember when the blood was no longer flowing to her brain, but it was all for not. Her eyes began to roll into the back of her skull, her vision growing darker and darker.

By some miracle, _Eirdsidh_ pulled his hand away, dropping her like a mindless puppet onto the ground. She coughed, her throat burning as she gasped for air, thankful that the being hadn’t crushed her windpipe. At first, she assumed he must have remembered that she needed air like every other human, but she quickly realized that had not been the case.

“No, you haven’t hidden her away,” _Eirdsidh_ mused, almost to himself. “You’ve been sent here, away from her. Well, no matter, she will come for you eventually, it is only a matter of time.”

“What the…” Emma wheezed, gripping at her throat as she looked up at him, “What the hell are you _talking about_? And what the hell is wrong with you? You could have fucking killed me!”

_Eirdsidh_ stared down at her, calculating her carefully. He looked confused by her questions and accusation, as if he couldn’t comprehend what she had said at all. Then, his expression shifted as he tilted his head to the side in mild amusement, considering her words more intently.

“You’re young.” The words were phrased as a statement, carrying a weight that she didn’t quite understand. ‘Still a child; a babe I’d argue. You’ve just been chosen; this is your initiation – _oh_ , you poor fool.”

Emma scowled and rose off the ground, dusting the dirt and leaves away from her hands. She glared at _Eirdsidh_ , furious at the growing smugness that oozed off him. She ignored the knot in her stomach, pushed the warnings in her mind aside, and stepped into his personal space with an expression that would have struck the fear of the gods into any lesser man.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t really care. I’ve had a day, a really shitty kind of a day, and I don’t have time for more riddles and magical stuff that don’t make any kind of sense.”

“Young and _naïve_ …” _Eirdsidh_ shook his head. “No matter, because with you out of the way the competition will be something of a walkover.”

“Competition?”

“Yes, _of course_. You don’t know.”

A beat passed, her heart hammering in her chest, threatening to spill out. She wanted to ask what she didn’t know. What kind of a secret was he in on and what did it have to do with her?

_Eirdsidh_ waved his hand and then the shadows began to move. Small hands – children’s hands reached out from beneath her, out of the blackness and began grabbing her clothes. A horrified gasp escaped her lips, but the hands – the fucking hands – grabbed her, wrapping around her neck, her chest, her abdomen, her legs. They grabbed onto her face and began to pull, yanking her down onto her knees in front of him.

“What the hell?” Emma tugged against the hands in vein, desperately trying to break free from their hold, but she was no match for their strength. The panic in her chest began to grow and she stared up at _Eirdsidh_ with wide terrified eyes. “What are you doing to me? Let me go!”

He ignored her, staring at her as if she hadn’t even spoken at all. His black, abyss-like eyes cut through her like a knife, stripping her bare, dissecting every muscle, every particle of her being. “I may not yet be able to take your soul from you, _gwaredwr_ , your weapon no doubt in the realm you’ve just left, but I can break you. I can take that which you will need most to defeat me with.”

_Eirdsidh_ reached into the air, and from a small rift, another dimension opening at his behest, he drew a long sword. A black and purple blade appeared in his hand, gleaming in the light. His name – _Leopold White_ – was engraved on the celestial steel.

Fear gripped Emma’s heart, because _Eirdsidh_ wasn’t just someone who’d inquired immortality by some strange means. He was a _Dark One_. Somehow, she could tell he was more powerful that Rumple, more powerful than any of the Dark Ones in the past. Every fiber of her being told her to flee, to rise off the ground and run, run as fast and as far as her legs would ever be able to carry her, because this man was going to _kill_ her.

“I will take your independence,” he continued, drawing his sword from the abyss and holding it out in front of him, “your ability to stand by yourself. I will take your readily offered friendship, making you incapable of offering a helping hand to those you care about most. I will take _everything_ from you, _gwaredwr_ , and then I will take _her_. I will make her my chosen, and she and I will reign chaos on this realm and the next. You will watch our armies consume the realms, powerless to stop it.”

It was the last words he spoke to her before he raised his blade into the air and brought it down, slicing into her skin, cutting deeply into her soul. When she screamed into the trees, the shrill sound sent a murder of crows into flight.

* * *

When she woke up, Emma wasn’t sure what day it was or where she had managed to end up this time around.

Her surroundings, a cabin of sorts, made her feel oddly at ease. The bed, well, she had done worse before when she had lived on the run and when she had gotten out of prison. It was far nicer than anything she could have afforded at the time. The mattress did wonders for her sore body, preventing any harm that would have been caused if she had been positioned on the floor. Looking down at herself, she could see her upper torso covered in bandages, closing the gaping wound where her arm was meant to be, and when she threw the covers aside, she realized the same could be said for that general area as well.

It fucking _hurt._

She had suffered through countless of foster homes, countless of _beatings_ , but this was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Broken bones she could still handle, but this… this was something else. Severe injuries like that were a lifetime contract. There was no going back, no quick fix for whatever that _thing_ had done to her.

A part of her wanted to cry; she wanted to scream, but the reality of it was that the person lying in that bed could just as easily have been Regina. That was a price she wasn’t willing to pay. Any harm, even so much as a hangnail, was unacceptable when it came to that woman, and she would face of any other _god_ that disagreed.

“Well, you’ve certainly gone and gotten yourself into a fine mess, haven’t you?”

Emma jumped in fright, sat up far too quickly that her injured state was satisfied with, and immediately regretted her haste when the pain shot through her like electricity. That was just what she needed. More pain.

“Careful,” a man, appearing African American in descent (but what the hell did Emma know about Fairy tale Land culture?) approached her, offering her a kind smile. He wore chainmail around his chest and thick leather pants, but he looked rather uncomfortable in it. As if it wasn’t his own garb and he was borrowing it from someone else. “You’ll just reopen your wounds if you move too quickly. How are you feeling?”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead uttering the only word that came to mind. “W – Water.”

The man’s smile didn’t waver as he moved about the cottage, retrieving a jug, and pouring her a drink into a goblet. When he moved back to her side, he helped her sit up as carefully and as comfortably as possible before he aided her in consuming every last drop.

All she could think about beyond the obvious, was that her throat was like sandpaper. It was scratchy and dry, and left her feeling a little more annoyed than usual.

How long had she been out?

He poured her another goblet, then settled on bringing the jug over when she reached for a third, gasping as the cool liquid finally began to sooth the unquenchable dessert, dripping from the side of her mouth and onto her chest.

“You’ve been unconscious for the better part of three days,” he told her, looking sympathetic as he delivered her the news. “There was a while where we thought you weren’t going to make it.”

The confession rang loudly in her ears and she could barely even bring herself to nod. It had been three days since that _thing_ had left her in the forest. Left her to die in the middle of _fucking nowhere_ without her family and friends.

But, other than that, she felt fine. She was tired and cranky, sore, and more than a little pissed off, but she felt like herself. Where the hell was the untold monstrosity that she had plunged that dagger into a few days ago? Where was the untold darkness pushing her towards a deep and insatiable thirst for evil? Wasn’t she supposed to be the Dark One now?

Then she remembered what _Eirdsidh_ had called her; he had referred to her as a Light One. Recalling back to their conversation, as fuzzy and unclear as it was now, she recalled him mentioning she had just been chosen. What did he mean by that? What had he meant when he’d…?

“Merida found you out in the clearing covered in blood; it looked like you had been attacked.” Emma looked up at the man, still finding unyielding kind eyes staring back at her despite her awful musings. “Do you think you could tell me what happened? I’ll be able to adjust your treatment accordingly if I had all the facts.”

“Treatment?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, a deep and warm sound that comforted her to her very soul. “I’m a doctor. Dr. Joshua Strongbear Sweet.”

Emma found herself smiling as she weakly raised her hand to shake his, “Dr. Sweet, huh?”

“Sweets will do just fine. And you are?”

“Oh,” she winced, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. “Emma. Emma Swan. And, uh, I don’t... I don’t really remember much of what happened. I sorta ended up here by mistake.”

“Well, an unfortunate mistake is what I would call it. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Emma didn’t argue with that, watching as Sweets rose off the bed and headed towards a small table in the corner. From it, he retrieved a small plate with an assortment of small fillings. She could make out a healthy chunk of mildly moldy cheese, a half of stale bread, and a few soggy grapes. When her stomach growled, she couldn’t care less of the state of the food.

“Now, be careful and eat slowly, I don’t want you to upset your stomach.” He held the plate out towards her, placing it onto her good leg. “You know what? I think I’ll just save us both the trouble.”

Tentatively, he began breaking the bread into smaller pieces before moving towards the cheese. By the time Emma had drooled her bodyweight onto the bedding and herself, Sweets helped her take a combined helping of bread and cheese, adding the sensational taste of a grape every now and then.

In her opinion, it was the best food she had in years. Excluding Regina’s cooking, of course.

They don’t say much to each other while he fed her, and Emma was far too exhausted and in too much agony to be embarrassed by the fact that a complete stranger was _spoon-feeding_ her like an infant. He kept the distance between them respectful, never crossing any lines or making her feel uncomfortable in her vulnerable state. Instead, he went out of his way to ensure she remained calm and restful, asking if he could wipe her mouth when the grape’s juices escaped through the corners of her mouth or asking if he could wipe away the crumbs that fell onto her chest.

He did make her eat a little more slowly, asking her to chew instead of swallowing morsels whole and forcing her to take a breath in between bites. And despite her annoyance, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared this much about her physical well-being, if ever. Hell, her own mother had never even done anything like that for her.

When the plate was cleared, he set it aside on the end table, going through the motions of checking her temperature and changing her bandages. Not without her explicit consent, of course, but he had probably already seen her naked when he had first tended to her injuries.

“So, Emma,” Sweets began, doing his best to uphold her unspoken _no eye contact_ rule as he worked. “How’d you end up in the clearing? You said it was by accident?”

“Well,” she sighed. “The short version would be magic.”

“And the long version?”

“I saved the life of my kid’s mother by stuffing a dagger into a swirling, dark vortex of doom.” Sweets stilled his movements long enough to check her fever again. “Funny. It would be more palatable if I were having a psychotic break, wouldn’t it?”

“It would be more logical,” he chuckled at her sour expression. “After all, you’ve suffered what could be quite a traumatic experience. But I don’t expect you to tell me the truth. I would understand if you wanted to keep what had happened to yourself.”

“I do.” She nodded fervently. “Want to keep it to myself. I just… You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

“I won’t push.” He smiled and left it at that.

Even without all the blood, Emma’s body looked terrible. She could see clearly where the jagged skin began, flimsy and torn. There were deep cuts along her chest and abdomen as well, deep wounds across her back, weaving and winding with no pattern in mind. The smell, god, the smell made her want to throw up. It made her feel like she was a ten-year-old again, stuck in the emergency room, arm snapped in half because she had accidently kicked over her foster father’s beer playing with the other kids.

Sweets worked with a tenderness she missed from Whale the few times she was forced into hospitalization. He took great care and pride in his work, and she could clearly tell that this was his passion. That helping people was something he was born to do.

He told her as much.

She didn’t say much while he worked, but he distracted her from any discomfort by telling her stories of the places he had grown up and how his father was an army healer, too. His mother, a village healer, had met his father while the army had been passing through. After the war, they had settled down in the village and had him.

The man was a drifter, traveling with a friend’s daughter from place to place and offering aid where they can. They had been passing through when her savior, a woman by the name of Merida, had road into the village pleading for help. The woman had left that morning, promising to be back with some supplies in the next week or so.

When he was done, Emma’s body still ached, and she missed the sensation of curling her toes deeper into the blankets, but she felt better. Sweets also made her eat a strange paste he assured was for the pain, even when it smelled like old socks and dust bunnies, but she opened her mouth with little complaint and swallowed each spoonful held out towards her.

She was already drifting towards another dreamless sleep, when she said, “My family.”

“Your family?” he repeated, pressing a cold, soothing hand to her feverish forehead. Pyrexia had begun to set in the short time it had taken him to move from the bed to his medicine cabinet. “What about them?”

“They’re going to come looking for me. My parents… a boy, Henry – he’s my son… and his mother, Regina.” She didn’t even think about Hook; she didn’t even care.

“I’ll make sure to inform them of your condition when they arrive.”

“Just – just be, like, sensitive when you tell them I’m a cripple.” It was a poor attempt at levity, and even in her delirious state she could tell the joke had fallen flat. “They’re, uh, they’re not going to take this well.”

“Emma—” Sweets pursed his lips. “They’re going to be okay with this. They’ll understand.”

They wouldn’t understand.

She was the savior. She was this beacon of hope. A light for people who had spent years in the darkness. They wouldn’t be able to understand why she could only now be a shell of what once was. They wouldn’t be able to understand why her brokenness couldn’t be pushed away anymore.

Emma smiled weakly, and lied to herself, “Yeah. They will. But… just be gentle.”

Sweets nodded, having no argument for such a desperate request. He retrieved a cloth from a bucket somewhere on the floor, the water sloshing all over the floor as he attempted to dry it, then pressed it to her forehead. She shivered with relief at the dampness of the material.

“Get some rest.”

She didn’t object.

* * *

Three days turned into a week. A week turned into two, turned into a month. She began to wonder if Regina and the others had forgotten all about her. Old insecurities and demons with no faces plagued her late at night, the nightmares driving her to the brink of madness. She wondered if they even cared about what she had done for them, if they were even looking for her, but she had to push those dark thoughts away and… _hope_. She had to remind herself that they wouldn’t just leave her there, that they wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to bring her back home.

She was mostly confined to the bed, but her injuries heal, and Sweets made a point of it of taking her on daily strolls. Or more like he strolled and wheeled her in a makeshift, wooden wheelchair a local carpenter had made especially for her. Sometimes his friend’s daughter, a lovely young woman that reminded Emma a little too much of Regina, only without any of the refinement or manners, often took on Sweets’ task when he was busy with other patients in the village.

Audrey was blacksmith, a genius in the field, really. In the past month that she had spent time with them, learning their routine, their dynamic, she had learned far more about the topic than she had ever cared to. She didn’t know _anything_ about even beginning to design a weapon, barely even knew how to swing one properly, but the girl brought in a set of blueprints, asking for Emma’s input when she didn’t even need it at all.

They clicked instantly, and while Sweets was a kind and good man, she preferred Audrey’s company. In her mind, mechanics and blacksmiths weren’t that much different from each other. Emma had grown up with a few gearheads in her childhood, and even had a few foster brothers that delighted in the chance to share their passion or simply just to have a grease monkey to order around.

Audrey wasn’t that much different.

If she had the opportunity, and Emma was too tired to go out for the day, the woman would dump an impossible number of books on the end table and threaten bodily harm with her wrench if Emma didn’t at least finish one by the evening. Emma didn’t think she had ever even put that much effort in for school.

Then there was Merida.

A fiery, opinionated Scottish redhead from the clan Dun Broch, and the woman who had come across her in the forest. She and her horse, Angus, had found Emma, passed out from the blood loss, and rode her into the nearest village to be treated. Ever since then she came and went every few days, bringing treats and other food they couldn’t find in the village. She explained that her family’s castle was a two-day ride from the village and didn’t mind seeing how Emma progressed.

It was strange having a collection of strangers become somewhat people she considered her friends, and with each day passing, she could feel herself growing closer to them. Out of gratefulness for their unconditional kindness, perhaps, but they were easy to like.

Sweets was a complete dork. His mild-mannered attitude and his unfailing patience with her reminded her of David. He talked about one day settling down with a family of his own on a farm and trying the domestic life.

Audrey had a temper on her that made Emma want to hop out of bed and leave skid marks on the wooden floors, but she had a soft side to her that surprised Emma. Sometimes, when the nightmares were terrible and refused to release her, Audrey would spend the next night making sure to help sooth where she could. She refused to speak about it the next morning, even when Emma wanted to thank her.

Merida, as opinionated, hot-headed, and stubborn as she was, was deep down a proud young woman that cared deeply for her family and her clan. She was also a terrific storyteller and the days she visited they would all end up around the campfire in the evenings. She talked about witches and legends of old, kingdoms that had crumbled because of the arrogance of men and the beauty of magic shared between two lovers.

They made her forget about her plight at times. She could forget _Eirdsidh_ and the dreams that haunted her at night. The thought of her family forgetting about her or finding her in that state was easier to bear laughing around a campfire than brooding it away in the cottage. She could smile and forget, for one evening, that everything hadn’t fallen apart. She could pretend that she wasn’t tearing apart at the seams.

She kept herself occupied by reading, scouring topics of magic and its restorative purposes. She scoured every inch of magical theory, memorizing and summarizing countless of clusters of information that would once have been utterly useless to her. And, yes, one could label her as obsessed, especially when, more often than not, Audrey or Sweets would be forced to drag her away from the books and into bed for a goodnight’s rest, but each time she couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t have been so easy for them if she had her arm and leg.

Some of the material she recognized. Regina had been adamant, once upon a time, in teaching Emma how to properly use her magic. She remembered some of the books having been dropped into her arms and told to finish by the end of the week for their next class.

While at it, she searched through countless and countless of history books, theories and understanding of the universe to understand. To understand what she had seen that day. To understand what had happened to her.

By the end of the week, the fifth since it all had ended up there, she still didn’t find anything other than poorly recorded stories and tales of the Dark One and barely a morsel of what kind of a rebound such dark magic could have on a person. There was nothing on a Light One or any other topic that even came close.

But she did come across something that would solve most of her problems.

“The Philosopher's Stone, also known by various other names such as the Red Stone, the Fifth Element, and the Grand Elixir in its liquid form – this is it, Audrey. If I could get my hands on one of these stones, then I’ll be able to restore my body.”

“It’s a myth, Emma,” Audrey scoffed, gathering her blueprints scattered across the bed and then shoving them into her satchel. “It doesn’t exist. I know many of people who’ve tried and failed to find that stone. They say misfortune follows whoever seeks it.”

“But think about it!” Emma exclaimed, eyes shining as she looked up at the blacksmith. “The power of the stone is unlimited! I’ll be able to get my arm and leg back without paying any kind of a price. Then I’ll be able to kick that prick’s ass!”

Audrey rolled her eyes, throwing the satchel’s strap over her shoulder. “Come on. You can daydream about your fantasy pebble later—”

“It’s _not_ a pebble.”

“—you’re coming with me whether you like it or not. I’ve got something to show you.”

“But I—”

“You’ve been cooped up here all day. Sweets might be afraid to say something, but I sure as hell am not.” She marched over, her height about two-heads shorter than Emma’s but still terrifying, and yanked Emma away from the table. “You’re already so pale.”

“I have work to do!” Emma complained, futilely trying to dig her nails into the hardwood, but Audrey didn’t even break a sweat dragging her into the nearby wheelchair. “Can’t this wait?”

“No,” she responded flatly.

Having no choice, Emma sighed and allowed the woman to wheel her across the threshold of the cabin and down into the small, gravel road. Not without any protest, of course. Emma pouted and whined, petulantly declaring that her shift wasn’t something she should be seen in, but that had only rewarded her a face full of Audrey’s blacksmith apron and he grumbled threat.

The village was exuberant today. Little kids running through the grass in the distance, disappearing over the hills. The local tavern played flourishing and lively music that made Emma bounce her knee along to the tune. The baker had the most wonderful of scents coming out of his business, escaping into the streets, and slapping Emma across the face. People waved and greeted, happy to see that she was up and moving about for the day.

The little village, just south of the Camelot border, was surprisingly welcoming. It had taken them less than a week to warm up to the wayward soul left in Audrey and Sweets’ care, and with it had often come visitors that Emma had no idea why they would want to provide comfort to someone like her. Sweets assured her that it was perfectly natural.

Audrey wheeled her up the stairs of her forge and workshop, ignoring the way that Emma winced every time the wooden wheels bumped against the block in her path. She wondered if she had done something particularly annoying for the engineer to drag her up on the stairs rather than the ramp designed for amputees.

“I wanted to show you my designs,” she explained as she pushed Emma through the doorway. “They’re not ready yet, but they’ll be done in a day or too. I’m only capable of so much until I pass out from exhaustion, and that’s not even considering my other priorities.”

“Uhm,” Emma frowned. “Okay, I’ll bite. What have you been working on?”

“I’ve been thinking about your situation,” she explained, wheeling Emma over to the workbench. The wheelchair came to a sudden and abrupt stop, jerking her body and nearly sending her toppling off into the wooden floors. She scowled, but Audrey ignored her, moving towards the diagrams stretched out on the table and plastered on the wall. “You know, like what if I could design metallic limbs connected to your nervous system? They would function like a regular arm or leg, but they would be… you know… made of steel, or something? Perhaps a lighter alloy?”

Emma raised an eyebrow, pushing herself closer, her arm protesting the struggle. The wheelchair turned askew, but before she could huff out an impatient breath, Audrey blindly reached towards her and began to pull her towards the workbench until she was right up against it.

Craning her neck, she could see the outlining of the creation, gears and pumps and various other parts to make up the strange contraption her friend had designed. It occurred to Emma that it wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing, Audrey had been brewing on the idea for quite some time now and this was the result. She had just wanted to keep it a secret for as long as she could until she had something concrete to show Emma.

A smile crept up her lips and she reached out towards the diagram to gain a better look. Audrey yanked it off the workbench and held it out towards her, presenting the design more fully. She watched Emma with a completely blank expression, unmoving and unfeeling, as if she couldn’t care less of what Emma thought about her plan.

She swallowed thickly, biting her cheek to keep the sudden emotion from clogging up her throat. “Do you think you can make something like this?”

“Do I _think_ I can make something like this?” she repeated, scoffing in exasperation. “That’s like asking the sun if it thinks it will shine tomorrow. It may be cloudy, but the sun’s still going to shine. Stick with me, Emma, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Emma smiled, looking back down. “How long do you think the recovery and rehabilitation will take?”

“Theoretically, about three years on average. But this is all untested mumbo-jumbo, the ramblings of an idealist. It might take longer.”

Emma took a deep breath. Three years would take too long, and she had already wasted enough time. “I’ll do it in one.”

“You’ll be spitting up blood every step of the way.”

“A small price to—” Her train of thought was interrupted when the pounding of hooves thundered through the village. Horses whinnied and men and women, villagers, and newcomers alike, were shouting in the distance. Audrey was about to check on what could possibly be going on when Sweets burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic.

“Joshua?” Audrey frowned, taking a step towards him as he slammed the door. “What are you—”

“Hide her.”

“What?”

He strode across the room, towards the crates in the far corner of the workshop and pushed them aside with one powerful haul. Beneath it, a trapdoor that led into the basement waited and he yanked it open, nearly tearing it from the hinges.

“Help me hide her!” he hissed, jogging over towards Emma and began pushing her towards the dark abyss below. Emma’s chest constricted and she dug her nails into her armrest. She hated the dark. “There are men here, men from Camelot. They’re looking for her. They burned down two other villages to find her.”

“W – What?” Audrey stuttered, eyes wide and looking so very, very young. “Why? Why are they looking for her?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “We can puzzle this out later.”

“No!” Emma exclaimed. “I – Don’t force me to go down there! I can’t… the dark!”

Audrey finally regained her wits and begun helping Sweets wheel the chair over to the trapdoor. Even as Emma thrashed wildly in it, they didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll only be for a little while.”

“No, I—”

“Emma,” she said, her voice soft and so caring, “there isn’t any time. We need to hide you, and you need to be quiet.”

“But—”

“Please. It will only be a little while.”

Emma swallowed thickly, then gave a curt, hesitant nod. Together, Audrey and Sweets lowered her into the basement, leaving the wheelchair above ground. It a few moments, the trapdoor slammed shut and the large crates pushed over it again. All light evaporated in an instant and Emma was left alone in complete and utter darkness. She pushed herself up against the nearest wall and pulled her leg close to her chest.

It was just in time, too.

The crates had barely been moved in place before the shop’s door burst open. Chainmail and armored boots clinked as heavy footsteps entered the building, their movements commanding and entitled. She wondered if they were nobles.

“Where is she?” the disembodied voice echoed through the floor, and Emma had to close her eyes to focus on the conversation. The shadows were playing with her mind and she could see hands, thousands of tiny hands reaching out towards her. “Where is the Savior?”

A pained gasp escaped Emma and she had to muffle it with her hand, the word like a cold, blunt knife to her cut.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you must be mistaken.” That was Sweets. He sounded like he was trying to restrain himself. Emma could imagine his face taut, resisting the urge to scowl. “There is no one here that goes by that title.”

“You dare lie to a knight of the round table? You dare lie to a knight loyal to your king?”

A slap made Emma’s gut wrench and she clenched her fist.

So, they were following orders from a king?

King Arthur no less.

Emma had seen the movies about him, seen the light he was portrayed in as good and just, but even the stories from her world, the ones she had bothered reading for the heck of it after finding out she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, portrayed him as anything but. Just how inaccurate could the retelling of the Sword in the Stone be?

Desperately trying to focus on her breathing and ignore the darkness licking at her feet, the shadows that dripped from the ceiling and threatened to consume her whole, Emma squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel her chest constricting, tightening, and stealing her breath away. She could see the hands, reaching out of the shadows and gripping onto her feet, her legs, trailing up her spine…


	9. The Flame of Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. I wish I could post more frequently, but things have been a little difficult for me lately when it comes to managing my time. Apparently I don't have any for what I want to do.
> 
> Warning: Reader's discretion is advised. Mention of torture and past sexual trauma. Depiction of panic attacks. If you are triggered by these things, then proceed with caution.

* * *

The sun descended towards the horizon, touching the mountains in the distance, and plunging the sky into a beautiful display of red and orange, setting the light blue ablaze with fire. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional had already claimed Regina and the only thing that crossed her mind was a scalding bath and a comfortable bed.

She just wanted to forget today and everything that had happened. Tomorrow, she would wake up in Storybrooke and Henry would be sound asleep in his room, a comic book stuck to the side of his face and his Iron Man nightlight shining on stubbornly because he had been too confident he would be able to finish the story before the sandman claimed his consciousness. Emma would be passed out on her couch from their tiresome nightly talk, sprawled in the form of a majestic starfish, drool sticking a clod of hair to the side of her face. She would awaken at the sudden blaring of her alarm, fall of the couch, and scramble for her belongings because she had forgotten that she was supposed to relieve David of his shift. Regina would kindly remind her it was a Saturday, her weekend off.

Just because they were her family, Regina would prepare a traditional American breakfast with eggs and bacon, and because she wasn’t as immune to their pleading eyes as she claimed herself to be, she would prepare pancakes with homemade maple syrup as well. Emma would smile, and around a mouthful of food proclaim that it was the best meal she had eaten, even when _every_ meal Regina prepared for her was _the best meal she had eaten_.

Regina found Emma and Merida pouring over a map, the blonde pointing out towards towns and villages and the latter encircling them with her quill. Next to Emma stood a short, elderly, and busty woman, the blonde’s automail arm in her grasp as she tightened a new set of bandages around it. Audrey was going to kill her when she saw the state of her limb.

Maudie must have been getting annoyed with Emma because she huffed and wacked her head.

“Ow,” Emma complained. “Maudie, what the fuck?”

“You’re worse than the boys,” she scolded, fixing Emma with a stern gaze. “Hold still, or I’ll throttle you.”

“I didn’t ask for your fussing,” Emma sputtered, throwing her other arm into the air. “I can do it myself.”

“Aye, and that often goes so swimmingly. If you took care of yourself with the same amount of stubbornness you possess, then my life would certainly be easier.” Maudie tightened the bandage as if she expected Emma to feel pain in the unfeeling and cold metal. “Honestly, one would assume you’re a child with the way you behave.”

“I’d have to agree.” The three women’s eyes turned towards her, and Regina quelled the trepidatious feeling that bubbled in her stomach. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No, my dear,” Maudie responded before either of the royals could. “Perhaps you’ll have a better chance at dragging them up to the castle. My lady would be furious if they arrived behind schedule, and these two aren’t renowned for their promptness.”

“Thank you, Maudie,” Merida groaned, puffing her cheeks. “Have Jackson ready the horses, please? We’ll be out in a moment.”

“Of course, your highness.” Maudie sighed, bowing to the princess. Then to Emma and Regina, “Miss Emma, my lady.”

Regina smiled at the woman and stepped aside for her to exit through the tent’s flap. It fell shut, leaving the three women to their privacy. Wringing her hands together, an uncharacteristic habit for her, Regina turned towards the woman and she swallowed the sudden lump that rose in her throat.

“Emma, may I speak with you – privately?”

Emma looked down at Merida, sharing a confused look, before she nodded her head. She exhaled a nervous breath and took a step around her friend, retrieving her coat and sword on the stool nearby.

“Sure, uh,” she shot another uncertain look the Scot’s way, frowning. Merida shrugged her shoulders and returned to the map. “Let’s, uh, let’s take a walk.”

No direction in mind, Emma led them off into the distance, the camp and rambunctious spirit of the clan members as they shared stories around the campfire faded into the distance, far enough that they weren’t worried about any eavesdropping.

After Emma had told them about Leopold and what had happened, the months that followed and her less than successful attempts at finding answers about the prophecy, she’d left them and returned to Merida’s side, allowing them time to process everything. To put it mildly, they hadn’t taken the news well. David and Snow were inconsolable, Henry confused and lost, looking to her for answers that she didn’t have. The others were sympathetic, careful, and unsure of how to work around the situation. Robin… well, Regina wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction. He was quiet and didn’t offer her any kind of advice, still fragile after the scolding he had received that morning. Zelena seemed somewhat concerned, but Regina chalked it off as worry for her child and what Leopold could do to her unborn.

Regina hadn’t been able to work up the courage to seek Emma out for the last few hours. Usually, Emma was the one that did the seeking, the finding, in their relationship, and now that their roles were reversed Regina found herself hesitating. She didn’t know how to govern something like this. How could she look Emma in the eye without regret or shame? It should be her blood that had been spilt; it should be her suffering as Emma had and probably still did; it should be her and only her haunted by the name _Leopold_.

“Regina?” Emma’s voice pulled, tugging at her, as she steered them to a stop. “Regina, are you all right?”

“Yes,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just asked where Henry was, and you totally zoned out on me.” Emma tilted her head to the side. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know? I can always tell when you do.”

“Henry’s… He’s with your parents and your brother. I…” The guilt clotted her throat, causing her voice to crack traitorously. After a moment, she sighed, glancing at the ground. “I have questions.”

“That’s fair,” Emma nodded, smiling, but the gesture appeared forced. “I’m glad you do. I was worried none of you would ever want to talk to me again, fearing my _fragile_ state.”

“Are you? Fragile, I mean. After what he had…” Emma’s intense sea green cut into her, and she found herself unable to finish the sentence.

Emma mulled over the question, kicked a stone, and tugged at her coat, pulling it closer. Then she looked up at Regina, offering what had been meant to be a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Regina. I’m O.K.”

It was a lie, she knew.

A bold-faced lie because Emma _wasn’t_ okay.

She’d been tortured, had her arm and leg ripped off for the sake of some sick and twisted metaphor Leopold had concocted in his mind. He had wanted to break her, utterly rip all that was hers and good, and used Regina against her in those moments. They might have been given a watered-down version of the actual events for the sake of Henry and Roland, but Regina knew what a bastard Leopold was, and this version of him appeared to be far more villainous and cunning. He was uncaring and cruel, unbothered with the image the people associated with him and that made him far more dangerous.

Regina felt lightheaded, her chest tightening and tightening until it was near impossible to breath. It was her fault; all of this was her fault. If Emma hadn’t taken on the darkness, despite her triumph over it, none of this would have happened. Leopold would be her demon and her demon alone, and now he terrorized every inch of Emma, his touch forever marred on her skin.

The world began to spin, Emma’s steady form seemingly so utterly far away, and Regina pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling all the blood drain from her body. At once, she wanted to be sick, lose the little bit of food she had managed to get into her stomach on the ground.

“I think… I think I need to sit down…” she reached out to Emma, but her legs quaked beneath her and she made a descent towards the grass. Thankfully, Emma had seen her dilemma before she herself had seen it coming. She stepped forward and caught Regina in her grasp, guiding them down onto the ground as slowly and as carefully as she could manage.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Emma whispered against her ear, gathering her into a close embrace. “Hey, you’re okay.”

She remembered vividly the panic attacks she’d hand while living in the White kingdom, the first few months after Leopold left her chambers, leaving her to the care of her lady-in-waiting, she also remembered the months after his death when his ghost would haunt every corner of her mind. So, she knew exactly what was happening when her chest contracted so painfully.

The blood pounded in her ears. Her heart strained against her ribcage. Her hands tingled even as Emma took them in her grasp. The blonde continued to whisper, lips pressed up against the shell of her ear, holding her, keeping her from tearing at the seams and falling completely and utterly apart. She wanted to scream, to shout, to tell Emma that she was an absolute idiot, instead a strangled sob escaped the back of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut.

How could Emma stand to look at her let alone touch her?

Breathing was difficult. Impossible even. But Emma’s touch began to slowly ground her, her vision no longer swimming. She followed the blonde’s example, inhaling and exhaling, feeling the rise and fall of Emma’s breasts against her back.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the blonde’s murmuring became more coherent, less of the mumblings of a madwoman as she had first assumed. “I’m here, _Mo Nighean Donn_.”

The words were foreign to her, but she desperately clung to them, enjoying the sound of consonants and vowels as they rolled from Emma’s tongue. It coaxed her from the severity in her chest, soothing the inescapable pain from deep within her chest.

“It’s okay,” Emma continued, pressing her forehead against Regina’s as the woman turned towards her, wiping at the tears that stained her cheeks. “I understand. It’s okay, _Mo Nighean Donn_.”

“I’m… Emma, I’m _sorry_ —”

“Don’t apologize,” Emma insisted, gently stroking her cheek. “Never. Not to me. Not because of that bastard.”

She nodded her head, unable to speak, and closed her eyes, allowing the last of her tears to spill over her cheeks. Emma’s thumb collected all of them, their foreheads remaining pressed together. There was still so much to be said, and yet all that had been needed had been exposed. Words need not be spoken because they understood, deep down in her soul Regina could feel the depth of that simple truth.

After they calmed, the tightness in Regina’s chest reduced to a dull ache, Emma helped them to their feet, catching her when she stumbled slightly. They shared a breathless laugh as they broke apart, and Regina could truly feel herself to relax. She still needed that bath and her bones ached for a bed, but it wasn’t as severe as it had been and she no longer yearned to wake up back in her home, nor wished for things to return to how they had been where pirates made her loath her mercy and soulmates made her regret ever even daring to think a fairy wasn’t full of pompous and callous attitude.

“We should…” Emma cleared her throat, motioning back towards the encampment. “Merida and the others… and Henry… and… right? Yeah, we should… we should…”

If watching Emma stutter over her words like a babbling fool, perhaps even like a lovesick mutt, wasn’t the second most adorable thing she had ever seen, then Regina hadn’t a clue what would be.

“Yes, we should—” She turned her head, wondering what commotion would have the others up in arms. Her eyes caught the approach of four riders, one, a woman that looked oddly familiar, but Regina couldn’t quite recall where she had seen her. “What on earth is—”

“Oh, my god!” Emma squealed in excitement. “I thought she wasn’t arriving until next week!”

Before Regina could inquire on the woman’s identity, Emma grabbed her hand, pulling her across the meadow and into the encampment where clan members and their family and friends had gathered. There, in the center of the attention, stood a young, pale blonde woman Regina had thought to be rid of for what she hoped to be forever.

She looked ravishing, dressed in a flowing dress, cape pinned with the signet of Dun Broch. Her hair was braided into a weaving French braid, draped over her left shoulder. Upon their approach she turned, her deep sky-blue eyes lighting up at the sight of Emma, and she stepped towards them, holding her arms out for an embrace. Emma gladly accepted it, twirling her before drawing her closely against her firm chest.

“Elsa!” Emma laughed, her voice filled with mirth, making Regina’s stomach clench bitterly. “You’re here!”

“Oh, when the messenger said you’d returned earlier than expected, I had to come and see for myself.” She pulled back, luscious red lips pressing a kiss to Emma’s cheek. The imprint left there made Regina sick for a whole other reason. “I’ve missed you unbearably.”

“I thought you were only returning with the others next week?”

Elsa giggled, her hands still around Emma’s neck. Regina could smell the smoke rising from her hands as she clenched fists, magic boiling beneath her skin. “I was, but there’s still so much to be done here, and Anna insisted that she and Kristoff assured me that they’d be able to handle things on their own. Isn’t it a nice surprise?”

“The best!” Emma turned towards the others, as if only remembering their existence now. “Hey, you remember Regina, right? And our son, Henry?”

“Of course, I do!” She stepped forward, and before Regina could protest, she found herself being pulled into an embrace. It appeared that years of isolation had made the woman as starved of affection as Regina often dared to admit to herself. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to see all of you again. Emma had missed all of you so dearly.”

“Yes, it’s lovely to see you too,” Regina hummed, offering a tight smile. “What are the odds that we would cross paths again?”

“I’d say very likely,” the queen smiled, pulling back to greet the others, though with not the same affection and enthusiasm as she had done with Henry and Regina. “When Emma showed up some moons ago, I knew that you would come and look for her eventually.”

“Not that we aren’t excited to see you, but what are you doing here, Elsa?” Snow gave the woman a curious look, clutching a babbling Neal closer to her chest. “I’d assumed you’d be in Arendelle?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the news yet,” Elsa smiled brightly at Emma, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “We’re betrothed.”

“What?!” Regina exclaimed, the only one of their group that hadn’t been stunned into silence. “You’re getting _married_?”

“Yes, within a fortnight,” Elsa explained. “We’ve been courting for a while now and the councils have pushed for the union to take place sooner now that talk of war is in the air. She proposed one moon ago.”

Elsa held up her left hand, revealing a ring which appeared to have been fashioned from a piece of iron, but she displayed it as though the most beautiful jewel rested in the center. She turned, smiling broadly at Emma.

Regina turned to Emma, the tips of her ears turning red as rage consumed every part of her being. Behind her, the others were still silent, their eyes wide, Henry looking ready to pass out. Her anger was the only thing that kept her from fainting or sinking into a foetal position and sobbing until the world made sense again.

“Have you completely lost your mind?!”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock, her hands coming up in defense as she took a step back. The others around them, clansmen, and women, contorted their faces in confusion as they watched Regina advance on the blonde.

“You and this woman have barely been seeing each other for a few months and now you’re suddenly ready to _marry her_?”

“Regina, what are you—”

“You and the pirate had ended things less than four days ago!” Regina barreled over the look of horror that passed over her friend’s face, mostly because of the anguish and heartbreak that twisted a knife into her chest. “You’d still been with the pirate when you and this woman started your sordid affair!”

“Okay, Regina, just hold on for a second, you’re blowing this out of proportion—”

“ _I_ ’m blowing this out of proportion?” Regina cried out. “Emma, she’s twenty-one-years-old! You’re nearly a decade older than her! She’s young and innocent, and practically still a child! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with _you_?” Emma waved her hands frantically in the air, her eyes still wide with panic as if she were afraid Regina was seconds away from setting her on fire. “What are you _talking_ about? Elsa and I aren’t getting _married_!”

“Of course you are!” Regina hissed through clenched teeth. “She all but flaunted it into my face! Now you’re lying to me about it? You are the most selfish, egocentric, wayward wench of a woman I have ever met, and—”

“Oh, dear,” Elsa said. “It occurs to me that my words and actions could have been misinterpreted. Emma and I really _aren’t_ getting married.” She turned towards Emma, a soft and panicked look flashing across her face. “Not that you’re not a wonderful person, but we’re friends – good friends – and I like to think of you as the stubborn, overprotective sister that Anna already is to me. I mean, anyone would be so lucky to have you as their wife, but…”

“Hey, Els? Could you, uh, speed things up?” Emma winced, a plea in her voice. “I love you like the sister I never had, but can we be mushy and stuff after you cleared up the misunderstanding? Preferably before the mother of my child fireballs me and our son dies from asphyxia.”

“Oh, right, of course.” She nodded, turning back to Regina and the group. “Emma and I aren’t betrothed.”

Snow glanced between them in confusion. “You’re… not?”

“No, they are not.” Everyone turned their attention to see an amused Merida marching through the crowd, flanked by three taller young men. The latter shared a laugh, mischief glinting in their eyes as they tried to hide their glee behind their hands. Though they appeared to be at least trying, they didn’t seem at all bothered that they were failing to restrain themselves. “Elsa and Ah will be the ones getting married, and Ah’ll thank ye very much. Ah dinnae much like sharing what belongs to me.”

Elsa giggled, stepping towards the shorter woman, and allowing her to sweep her into a knee quivering kiss. Around them, clansmen and women cheered at the display of their princess claiming her queen so openly, pride radiating off them for their leader.

Regina blinked, looking between the jovial couple and a sheepish looking Emma. She backtracked, trying to determine how things had gone so badly, so quickly as her whole face heated up in embarrassment.

What the _fuck_ just happened?

* * *

Regina couldn’t stand the smug look etched across Zelena’s face as they took the pathway up to the castle, still finding great amusement in her younger sister’s blunder. She’d admitted as much when she spurred her horse after Robin’s and in passing muttered another jest at her expense. The heat rose into her cheeks all over again, and she bit the inside from her cheek to keep herself from uttering the foul word that had come to mind. Henry, seated in front of her, looked back with concern flashing in his eyes, but she managed to reassure him with a smile.

Emma could only be furious, Regina imagined. She had every right to be. Her first impression to these people was her spitting rage to one of their companions and their soon-to-be bride of their beloved princess and future queen. Somehow, for the first time in her life, she had managed to shove both feet into her mouth and then some. Mortified was not even what she would even begin with describing the assault of emotions raging inside of her.

She hadn’t the slightest of inklings what had come over her. The person back there hadn’t been her. Well, it was her, but it was a part of her that she had locked away. It had been a part of her that used magic without a single care, wreaking havoc and stirring up chaos without even a second thought. She wasn’t that person anymore and the second she thought that Emma was already with someone else, a woman at that, had launched her back to that place where all she wanted to do was hurt because of the way she was hurting. She could handle whatever fling the woman had with others over these past few months, but a marriage was something else entirely.

It was a combination of factors, she decided, heart heavy as she spotted Emma and Elsa up ahead, laughing as they reminisced in the things they had missed out on while they had been separated. It had been the way Elsa had hugged her, the soft familiar kiss on her cheek as if it were something they did often, the way she had blushed when referring to her _betrothed_. The others had also been under the impression that Emma and Elsa were the ones who would wed, she had just been the unfortunate sod that blindly stepped into that beartrap. Elsa had always been overfamiliar with Emma, and to be frank, Regina should have known her vile temper would get the better of her at some point.

She sighed, wanting crawl into her own skin and remain there for the rest of her days. Never in her life had she been so humiliated. Regina was a _Queen_ , chagrin was something she wasn’t familiar with, but the feeling seemed to enjoy making its home in her chest, filling her with dread and shame every time her eyes drifted back to Emma and Elsa.

“All but flaunted it in your face, huh?”

Regina sniffed, holding her chin up despite her initial shock at the sudden intrusion. “Another word out of you, Miss Swan, and I’ll strangle you.”

Somehow, Emma had managed to move from the front of the group all the way to the back, her horse trotting alongside Henry and Regina’s. She grinned winking at their son, and he snickered, eager to share the same gesture as though they shared a great secret.

A traitor. What else could she expect from the grandson of Snow White.

“I’m just saying, your majesty,” Emma pressed on, no care or worry for her health nor living in fear of spontaneous combustion now that she could hold this faux pas over Regina’s head; a rarity in itself, “Not everyone is out to _flaunt_ things in your face. Least of all me and the partner of my choosing.”

“You allowed a man with a hook for a hand to woo you.”

“Henry close your ears.”

“But, Ma—”

“Close ‘em.”

The boy grunted boorishly but accepted his fate by placing a hand on each ear. Obediently he began humming a soft tune, preventing him from overhearing whatever would spill from his uncouth mother’s mouth next. Regina tightened her loose grip around his waist, pulling him firmly against her chest in case he lost his balance.

Satisfied, Emma continued, “I was drunk half the time just to get through the fact how awful he smelled, and withheld sex for as long as I could.”

Regina’s eyes widened, and she looked over at Emma in mild apprehension. “You never consummated your relationship?”

“Not once,” Emma shook her head. “I haven’t been with any man after Henry’s father. Just didn’t seem that all appealing. Walsh and I were together for a year and _we_ never even did anything remotely close to it. After Neal I’ve been… to put it plainly… _picky_.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s your body, you may do with it as you please.” Regina pursed her lips. “But you’ve been with women?”

“Yeah, I was just more comfortable with it, I guess. I felt more in control. But that didn’t exactly go over well with Hook.” She sighed, giving Regina a meaningful look. “That’s why we fought that day. He must have seen me sneak off the evening before, and when I hadn’t returned in the morning, he followed me so that we could have some kind of a conversation about our relationship. Only, he didn’t want to do much talking.”

Regina could feel her blood boiling again, and she gripped her reins of her horse until her knuckles turned a sickly pale. She had already allowed her anger to get the best of that day and couldn’t permit it a second time. Not only would she be unable to forgive herself, but she would surely begin to strain her and Emma’s already fragile friendship.

“But you’re changing the subject,” Emma reminded, giving her a mischievous smile.

Sighing, she nudged Henry, informing him that the dangerous topic had now passed. He released a relieved breath and gripped onto her hands and their horse’s mane. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Swan.”

“Oh, come on, of course you do!” Emma laughed, the sound rumbling deep from within her chest. “You totally thought Elsa and I were having a ‘sordid affair’ behind your back.”

“Every sane person did!” she defended, flabbergasted at the audacity of the woman and her son teaming up on her. They cackled in unison, delighted by her guffawed expression. She scowled at Henry, “You’re in no position to laugh at my expense, young man. You were seconds away from collapsing from light-headedness.”

“Yeah, but at least _I_ approached the situation in a calm and collected manner,” he replied all too smugly, grinning just like his other mother. “I didn’t call Ma a ‘wayward wench of a woman’. _I_ waited until she collected herself to form at least a somewhat coherent response.”

Emma wheezed with laughter, clutching her hand to her belly as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She shook her head as if she were struggling to breath.

Clicking her tongue, Regina turned towards the woman, “You are absolutely ridiculous – both of you. One misunderstanding and I’m being punished for it until the end of time. You’re blowing the entire situation out of proportion.”

“Ha!’ Emma cried, snapping her head to Henry. “‘Blowing the situation out of proportion’! That’s was she did!”

They howled together, causing others to swing their heads in their direction. Regina could feel her embarrassment tainting her cheeks all over again. She had half a mind to shove Henry off her horse and turn Emma into a toad. Perhaps turning them both into a four-legged amphibian would teach them a lesson.

She growled, prepared to give them a piece of her mind, when Emma held up a hand, wiping at her cheeks. The snickers died down in her chest and she blew out a relieved breath, unable to remember the last she had laughed so carefreely.

“I’m sorry,” she atoned, shaking her head. “I just… You have to admit it’s a little funny, Regina. I mean, I love Elsa – she’s like a sister to me – but the thought of kissing her is like nails on a chalkboard. What led you to believe that we we’re together?”

Regina raised an imploring eyebrow. “You’ve seen the way she drapes herself over you, yes?”

“Yeah, but that’s just how she is around people she cares about.” Emma shrugged away the dubious look Regina directed at her. “She’s lived a pretty isolated life because of her magic – starved herself from human interaction – and now that she has it under control, knows how to keep herself from losing that again, she allows herself this. She’s actually a very affectionate person.”

“So you say.” She stiffened, not daring to meet Emma’s mirthful eyes. “I just didn’t like the way she staked a claim to you. Her behavior implied that the two of you were involved romantically.”

“Mom’s kinda right, Ma,” Henry piped up, looking a little apologetic. Regina couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the regret in his voice. _Of course_ , he was reproachful when betraying Emma, but had no such qualms when it came to the woman who raised him for most of his life. She ought to ground him for his transgressions. “I also thought you and Elsa were getting married.”

“Well, the two of you can relax.” The blonde wiped at her nose, her smile never fading. “Elsa and Merida are hopelessly in love with each other, so even if I were remotely interested, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Yes, quite an interesting pairing, wouldn’t you say?” Ahead of them, they could see Elsa and Merida riding alongside each other, giggling like two schoolgirls as they leaned over their horses to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. The redhead must have said something asinine because the next moment Elsa slapped her shoulder, blushing furiously through her smile. “I figured that Elsa’s taste would be more refined.”

“What can I say?” Emma shrugged her shoulders, spurring her horse ahead with a kick of her heel. “The ladies love us roguish rebellious barbarian types.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear,” she scoffed, following closely after the blonde.

The treeline faded behind them as they emerged from the forest, the large iron gate of Castle Dun Broch standing vast and proudly, sealing off entry within the castle walls. Three of the clansmen, the same young men she had seen riding with Elsa, released the oddest of animalistic shouts that she had ever heard, mimicking a bird native to the Highlands. From within, a horn was blown, the gates churning open with an ominous groan.

They were led inside, stable boys and girls helping them dismount before leading the horses away to be fed and cared for, leaving with reassurances that their belongings will be returned to them once their quarters had been assigned.

It was a flurried rush as servants rushed around, carrying crates and barrels, some trudging along armor and weapons, and others wildly loading carts with seed and tools, preparing for the following morning’s early rise. Their attire was somewhat different of what Regina was used to, men dressed in shifts and kilts, women dressed in thick dresses that should realistically be difficult to maneuver in but didn’t seem to deter them in any way.

Merida directed them past it all, guiding them through the thick flurried mess of clan members and into the towering, cobblestoned fortress. They entered through the kitchens, some of the soldiers spreading out into the occupied area, the scent of roast and other wonderful edibles grabbing their attention. The three, redheaded young men made a beeline for a table of deserts, hauling a large silver plate of tarts off the wooden surface before taking off into a direction. She escorted them into the Grand Hall, beautiful tapestry hung from the ceilings with the emblem of Dun Broch adorning the green and yellow material.

At the far end, seated upon their thrones, the king and queen were surrounded by three other clansmen. The first one, a skinny fellow with wild, black hair and blue tribal paintings covering his skin. The second, was a tall and burly man, big and strong with flowing locks of blond and a thick, impressive beard. The third man was shorter than the other two, already grey to the tips of his hair.

When they turned, Regina noticed that they each wore different tartans and signets to that of the Clan Dun Broch, the way they carried themselves not at all the same as the rest of the clan members she’d had the privilege of being introduced to.

“I am _so_ not dressed for this,” Snow admitted quietly, her eyes widening as they watched the queen rising from her seat.

The woman, powerful and commanding in her own right, let her eyes wander over the group. She held her hand out towards her husband, a brute of a man that appeared to be the size of an actual bear, and he eagerly assisted her descent on the stairs leading up to their thrones. She was a woman of astonishing beauty despite the blotches of grey hair beginning at the roots of hickory, virtuous and pure-hearted, dressed in the finest of flowing green silk.

“Emma,” the woman greeted, holding her arms out towards the blonde. Emma stepped away from them, meeting the queen halfway and allowing her to draw her in for an embrace. “Och, it’s so good to see you, my dear. I expected your return not for another fortnight. Oh, look at you! So skinny! We’ll have to request the cook add more food to your plate for you to keep up your strength.”

“It’s good to be back, Elinor,” Emma responded eagerly, eyes shining at her teasing. “I had to cut my travels short on account of… well…” She turned, signaling to the group it was their cue to approach.

Snow took the lead, bowing before the king and queen, “Your Majesty.” They followed her example, lowering themselves in respect to the leaders of the great kingdom.

Elinor grabbed Emma’s elbow, her features lighting up in joy, “Oh, Emma is this your family?”

Emma nodded, “My mother and father, Snow and David.”

The queen stepped forward, holding her hand out towards them. They each accepted the gesture respectively, smiling at the kindness that enveloped her frame.

“How do you do?”

“We’re well, thank you.” David bowed his head. “Your kingdom is beautiful, your majesty.”

Emma stepped back to Elinor’s side, the queen accepting the outstretched arm and allowing herself to be led. They stopped in front of Henry and Regina, the boy blushing furiously at the inquisitive and keen gaze of the queen.

“This is Regina and our son, Henry.”

“Regina,” Elinor repeated, sharing a soft look with her. “Emma’s told me so much about all of you. It’s a pleasure to finally be able to put a face to such a lovely name.”

“We’re honored to be welcomed into your home, your Majesty.”

The woman reminded Regina of a kind and caring mother, one that loved fiercely and deeply. She carried with her the elegance of a true queen, a vision of grace. She was unlike any of the other royalty that Regina had dealt with before, so unlike what she herself had been.

“Och,” the queen waved away her flattery, “call me Elinor, I insist. Though, it is we who are honored, Regina. It is our pleasure to have Emma’s family here with us in the time of our plight. Someone who cares as much as we’ve come to care for her is more than welcomed.”

Elinor turned, Emma leading the woman back to her husband’s side, an eager puppy to do the woman’s bidding. Regina wondered just what kind of a woman drew such fierce loyalty and respect from Emma, a woman she knew to have great difficulty with authoritative figures.

“Allow me to introduce my husband, Fergus, King of Dun Broch.”

The old king smiled, placing his arm around his wife instead of allowing her to take his arm again. “Ah look forward to getting to know all of you as we’ve come to know Emma. Ah reckon if you’re anything like the wee lassie, we’ll be getting along just fine.”

Fergus took the opportunity to wink at Henry and Elinor rolled her eyes at the childish behavior before pressing on, “The Lairds.” The three clansmen stood to attention, puffing out their chests at their queen’s recognition. “Laird Mackintosh.”

Mackintosh, the first, skinny man, stepped forward, grinning smugly at the others as if he had won a competition. They glared bitterly at him, put-off by the fact that their queen had introduced the scrawny man before them.

“Laird MacGuffin.”

The large man, MacGuffin, slightly smaller in comparison to Fergus, stepped forward, smiling beneath his thick, woolly beard. He huffed at the others, pleased to present himself at his queen’s request.

“And finally, Laird Dingwall.”

Dingwall, the stubby, grey-haired little man stepped forward and placed his hands proudly onto his hips, under the impression that the motion would make him somehow taller than the other two Lairds.

“They and their eldest sons are here to discuss further action against Camelot and will be attending the wedding come the next fortnight,” Elinor explained, smiling to where Elsa and Merida stood together. The women preened under the queen’s tender approval, and the redhead pulled her betrothed closer against her side.

“Yes, we’re all so very proud that wee Merida has finally found herself a consort,” Mackintosh informed, glancing affectionately at the redhead. Merida returned the gesture until the Laird elbowed MacGuffin, a mischievous grin gracing his face. “There was a time we all thought she’d take on her crown as a spinster.”

The men, including Fergus, howled in laughter despite the ferocious glare Elinor and Merida sent their way.

“Keep laughing, ya wee gomerals. We’ll see if it’s so funny when I’m stuffing yer faces with ma fists!” Merida moved to advance, but Elsa held her grip on her arm and one stern look from Queen Elinor kept her daughter rooted.

“Behave yerselves,” Elinor warned, tone authoritative and commanding. Their amusement and laughter dried up almost instantly, straightening under the scrutiny of the queen. “We have guests, and I’ll not have you behave like wee bairns.”

The lairds responded with quick, gracious apologies of “My Lady” and “We meant no disrespect”. Fergus attempted to do the same, stumbling over his words to atone for the rude remark. Somehow, the queen had reduced the large, towering man to a meek and apologetic bundle of nerves. When her stern look didn’t change, Fergus muttered a “Yes, dear”.

Just like that, the tension seeped out of the air and Elinor turned her attention back to their group. “I would have liked to introduce my sons as well, but they’ve seemingly gone off to wreak havoc throughout the castle and I can imagine that you all must be tired after the long journey. I’m certain Merida and Elsa would be happy to show you to the quarters we’ve prepared for your arrival, food and drink will be brought up shortly, and I’ll inform the servants not to disturb you all for the rest of the evening. We may all reconvene in the morning.”

Offering their pleasantries for the evening, Merida and Elsa took the lead towards the lead towards the staircase. It stretched out into the corridors of the castle, guiding them towards their assigned bedding. Emma stepped towards them, placing a soft hand on Regina’s waist and gripping Henry’s shoulder with her hand, but before she could continue ahead, Elinor called out to her.

“Emma, dear.” Emma stopped in her tracks. “A word, please. You may re-join them once we’ve finished.”

Emma turned her attentive gaze back towards them, squeezing Regina’s hip. “Go on, I’ll come and find you.”

“Are you sure?” Regina frowned, looking to where Queen Elinor was already being led towards the throne, enraptured in whatever she and the men were discussing. “We don’t mind waiting.”

“I won’t be long,” she promised, pulling them both in for an embrace. “You’re tired and a bath will do you some good. Don’t worry about me.”

Regretfully and with much hesitation, Regina nodded her head, not at all willing to let Emma completely out of her sight. She took Henry’s hand and began to follow the others, all the while watching Emma. The blonde stood rooted to the spot until they disappeared up the stairs and into the dark, torchlit hallway.

* * *

The quarters assigned to Regina had a beautiful view of the fjords that stretched out into the horizon, touching shores of Dun Broch, and glinting magnificently in the moonlight. From her room she could see the ships in the harbor, the three clan’s emblems and colors adorning their great vessels respectively and several ships from Arendelle’s mighty navy fleets, far larger than Regina had seen in quite some time.

Her room was warmly furbished, a large double bed resting against the wall with a fireplace just across from it, filling the room with a comfortable heat. It evaporated all the cold that had been let in when she had opened the door in a matter of seconds, and she couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped her. In the corner, a dressing wall divided the rest of the room from the bathtub, the maid that had led her into the room assuring that the bath had just been drawn and that she would be given the privacy she needed to scrub herself clean.

Regina couldn’t help but submerge herself in the steaming water, taking immense pleasure in the way it wetted her sweaty, grimy skin. It had been a week since she had had the chance for a proper clean and she was going to take full advantage of it. Henry had assured her he was just in the next room, fully capable of cleaning himself, before promptly closing the door in her face. She had been mildly offended that he didn’t need her help with anything, but now that she finally had a moment to herself, she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge the bitter sensation.

Once she’d scrubbed herself clean and tended to her sun kissed skin with oils and creams that had been placed out for her, she dressed herself in a beautiful, lavishing burgundy dress that had been prepared for her on the bed. The silk did wonders for her skin and the cut of the material complimented her figure quite well. She was in the process of dragging a brush through her knotted, wet hair when there was a knock at her door.

“Enter,” she hummed, not bothering to stand from her place in front of the mirror. A smile graced her lips when Emma appeared in the reflection, having shed her red coat, and draped it over her left arm. Her right arm, still hidden in white bandages, was displayed for her to see. Regina turned to address the blonde. “Emma.”

“Hey,” Emma grinned sheepishly, cheeks tinting pink. “You’re looking a lot better.”

“It was the bath.” She resumed her brushing, allowing Emma to step deeper into the room at the same time she shut the door behind her. “I hadn’t known how desperately I needed that until I stepped into the water.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one soon,” Emma nodded, stopping behind her. She reached out and placed her hand over Regina’s hand, ceasing her soft administrations. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh, of course.” Regina watched Emma as she gently took the brush from her hands and began to administer the gentle touches herself, taking great care in the way she dragged the small pins through her hair. It was almost as if she was afraid of hurting Regina; mother’s touch had never been so delicate. “What did Elinor want to discuss with you?”

“She and the others wanted my input on the matter.” Emma paused, pursing her lips. “I often travel throughout Camelot, looking for answers about _Eirdsidh_ and anything I can find about the prophecy, and more often than not I can move undetected. Elinor needed someone who can move freely through the kingdom to determine how drastic things had become.”

“You mean spy on behalf of Dun Broch?” Regina inquired curiously. “You risk your life for them and she allows you to stay here?”

“No, I offered.” Her fingers snagged and she winced when she accidently tugged. She offered Regina an apologetic look, waiting as though for permission to continue after the small discomfort. Regina nodded, wondering about the blonde’s curious behavior. “They’ve done so much for me, risked their lives to offer me protection from Arthur and _Eirdsidh_ even when they knew it would result in war. I owe Clan Dun Broch a great debt.”

“Well, they seem quite fond of you.” Regina chuckled, recalling how easily Fergus had accepted a group of complete strangers into his home simply because they were Emma’s family and friends. “You’ve made quite the impression on them.”

“They’ve grown on me, too.” Emma said, a smile glinting in her eyes. It only brimmed with excitement when she continued, “Though it’s not just for their benefit that I travel to Camelot.”

Regina gave Emma a wary look. “You mean the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“I’m close, Regina. I can feel it,” Emma said the words like a prayer, and by her tone of voice alone Regina could tell how badly she wanted them to be true. It was in the squeak of her hand as she brought it up to touch Regina’s hair, the way her leg would tweak when she would shift from one side to the other.

Regina had heard about the Philosopher’s Stone from Rumplestiltskin. She had an inkling that it was one of the many things beside that dagger of his that had driven him mad. Its existence was a myth, the possibility making the stone, let alone finding one, as unlikely chances were that it would rain gold that next morning.

The truth was that Regina didn’t know what Emma had to do to survive these last couple of months. She didn’t know what Emma had lost other than her arm and leg, and from where she was sitting it was already an unbearable punishment. One that she hadn’t deserved. Regina had no right to take away what was likely the only thing that was currently giving Emma hope of restoring herself to her natural state.

Thinking a change of subject was due, Regina concentrated on keeping her voice even, “You were going to tell me what conclusion Elinor and the council has come to?” Emma’s hands stilled and stormy, sea green met her caramel brown. “If things were up to Merida, war would already have been declared.”

“No, Merida wants peace,” the blonde corrected, setting the brush aside and rounding the stool to lean against the dresser. “She’s violent and robust, but she’s free-spirited, a kind and caring soul. When push comes to shove, she’ll be more than ready to lay her life on the line, but she has her people to think about, and soon her wife as well. If something happened to Merida on the battlefield, she’ll be leaving Elsa a widow at the ripe age of twenty-one. Another reason she might go to war is because of her pride.”

Emma stood, pacing next to Regina. She dragged her feet, staring at the cobblestone with a burdened, shadowy glare. Unable to do anything else, Regina watched the woman gather the courage to speak about whatever was clouding her mind. It was no secret that Emma had come to her seeking solitude and guidance. The fact that Regina was the first person she had come to after the conference with the Queen was practically written on her face.

“The Lairds, however, they’re growing anxious, so is the King. Arthur’s garrisons are stationed at the borders, awaiting orders and _Eirdsidh’s_ Wild Hunt grow bolder by the day. I’ve never seen them this close before – not within spitting distance of the Forest of _Mor’du_. They’ve never been brave enough to risk the wrath of the Witch.”

“So, you think they’ll invade?”

“The Lairds are pushing for it, but while Dun Broch’s clans’ members are strong and fierce their navy is not. The alliance with Arendelle is not yet solidified until the wedding, and it’s been moved up as quickly as they had been able to.” Emma sighed, restlessly returning to the dresser, and perching herself a top it. “But we don’t know how long it will be before the enemy has had enough of the stalemate and will make an attack of their own. We need to rally the clans before then, but it’s taking longer than we expected.”

Regina stood, coming to stand next to Emma. She ran her fingers through the blonde’s curly locks, picking at the grime and mud she had yet to wash out. “Here I thought finding and saving you would be as easy as rescuing a puppy from the pound. Just what have you gotten yourself into, Miss Swan?”

Emma grunted, leaning forward, pressing her ear against the thumping of Regina’s heart. She exhaled and pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around Regina’s waist. Mumbling something incoherently, she closed her eyes and stilled.

“What was that, dear?”

“I said don’t lecture me, woman. I’m dealing with enough as is.”

“I’m _not_ lecturing you.” Regina pulled back, cupping Emma’s face in her hands. “This is really troubling you, isn’t it? The decision doesn’t rest on your shoulders alone, Emma. It solely rests with Elinor and her husband, you can only offer your advice, and if necessary, your sword.”

Emma puffed her cheeks out but nodded her head in reluctant agreement before lying her head back against Regina’s chest. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this. It’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“It’s not your fault, dear,” she assured, smoothing back Emma’s wild mane, and continuing the soft touches until she closed her eyes again. The blonde clutched at Regina’s dress, digging her nails into the fabric. “We chose to come after you, and whatever you have to face, we will be there to face it alongside you. You’re not alone, Emma.”

“I know.” Emma’s lips curved and she burrowed herself closer against Regina. “Thanks, Regina.”


	10. House of the Waiting Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearies.
> 
> I finally managed to get some time to write, and I'm proud to say that I fixed that little plot hole that would have tanked the whole series. I'm not done yet, but I'm on the last few chapters. I think I just might be able to update more frequently.
> 
> Also, let me know what you guys think. I love seeing your comments and I read through every single one of them even if I don't reply. I also love extremely long comments, so write as much as you want.
> 
> Another side note, I don't speak Spanish. Not even a little bit. It's not one of my languages, so in order to incorporate it into the story I had to do research. I don't know how accurate all of it is, or the words that I used were correct, but I tried my darndest. Some of these chapters haven't yet been beta read, so a lot of the mistakes are my own. If anyone feels like I offended them, then I apologize in advance, and I am open to suggestions. If anyone wants to correct any mistakes, then point out where the mistake is and the correct terminology or reference and I will fix it.

* * *

It took Emma exactly a split second to realize her mistake.

She’d been gone for two weeks now, less than the month she had been prepared for because of her family’s sudden and welcomed appearance. In that time, she’d managed to get her ass handed to her at least three times and now had distinctive deathhound teeth markings stretching out across her arm, pieces of her automail damaged and torn, neglected because she knew absolutely nothing about dealing with enchanted and rare metals.

So, in hindsight, she should have seen it coming.

Audrey was particularly picky about _anything_ she designed, especially custom-made pieces that she had slaved over. She had no ethical qualms in threatening Emma’s life for the sake of her masterpieces, mostly because each time she wrecked it the blacksmith was the one forced to fix it. Emma understood the hard work and dedication her friend put into each and everything she did, carrying it out to the fullest extent, so she knew that Audrey had every right to be upset.

What Emma _hadn’t_ been expecting, was the hammer the smaller woman threw towards her, allowing barely enough time to bring up a magical shield before it collided with her head. She was flung from the stable wall, having been keeping Regina company while she helped tend to the horses before breakfast.

While Regina trusted the castle servants to care for her newly acquired companion as much as she already did, she had missed the large four-legged beasts more than she would ever allow herself to admit. For as long as Emma had known Regina, she had always denied herself the satisfaction of visiting Storybrooke’s stables after Daniel’s second passing, and even before that, unable to bear the thought of Rocinante and what she had done to him in her quest for vengeance. Having a steed to care for again would do her some good.

Emma landed inside the other stall, groaning as she clutched her head. Regina was consumed by brushing out the knots of the mare’s mane to notice that the blonde had now completely disappeared from where she had been leisurely swinging her legs back and forth.

“Did you say something, Emma?”

She thought it cruelly ironic that she was dying, and Regina couldn’t give two cents about it. Another groan escaped her, and she flopped onto her back, spreading her arms out and spiritually bargaining with death to embrace her before the fiery brunette reached them. Emma had already lost enough limbs for a lifetime to come and she didn’t need Audrey tearing another one off and beating her half to death with the wet end.

“Emma?’ Regina’s nimble brushing ceased, and she turned to where Emma had been seated. “Emma, did you fall over?”

_No_ , she thought bitterly. _I was shot_.

She was about to offer a somewhat coherent response, tell Regina that she should run while she still had the chance before all of hell descended upon them, but it was too late. Audrey’s stomping, rapid approach was daunting and filled with unspeakable rage, and there was no escaping it now. There was only bracing for it and hoping that she survived the attack.

Emma didn’t want to die; she still had so much to live for.

“You _idiota_!” Regina whirled, jumping at the bellowing voice, and Emma could hear servants and clans’ members scattering, eyes no doubt filled with fear. The blonde couldn’t bring herself to care amid her pain. “I let you prance around Camelot for five minutes and you go and dent my best work yet!”

“Why the hell do you go around throwing _hammers_ at paying customers!” She barked back, managing to pull herself out of the stall to get a better look at her attacker. “I didn’t buy you that thing just so that you could kill me with it, you gear-head.”

“ _Pendejo_ – do you have any idea what you’ve just put me through? I had to hear from Hamish you’d had another run-in with _El Diablo_ – and you didn’t come straight to me.” Audrey scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. She stared at Emma through narrowed eyes, squinting as though the blonde would spontaneously combust from the single glare. “I should break your fingers one by one to teach you a lesson.” When Audrey looked up, finally noticing Regina’s presence, she raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the _linda_?”

“Audrey, Regina. Regina, Audrey.” Emma released another groan, pushing herself of the ground. She rubbed at her forehead, hoping that the tender spot wouldn’t form a bump. “Audrey helped take care of me with Sweets that first month in Camelot. She helped design my automail.”

“I more than _helped_ , genius. I was the one that crafted the metal to perfection, and now look what you’ve done to it. Do you even care that I’ll have to pull all-nighters for the next two days?”

“I—”

“Don’t even answer.” Audrey clicked her tongue, and Emma knew better than to try her luck when the younger woman got like this. So, instead she shut her trap, crossing her arms over her chest as the brunette turned towards Regina. “So, you’re the woman she can’t seem to shut up about?”

Emma growled, clenching her fists at her side. What was it with all her friends feeling the need to sell her out like this?

“You’re a real prick, you know that?”

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” she responded without missing a beat, not taking her eyes off a bewildered Regina. “You’re native to the Summerlands.”

“Yes, I am,” Regina nodded, finally finding her voice. “I’d shake your hands, but as you can see…’ Holding up her hands, she revealed the mud-covered skin. She offered the other woman a smile and an incline of her head. “You’re native to the Isles if I’m correct. Quite a long way from home, aren’t we?”

“Eh, I prefer travel more than sticking around in one place for too long.” Audrey shrugged her shoulders, before returning her murderous gaze onto Emma. The blonde flinched, regretting her lack of bravery when the shorter woman brought her fists up. “Two for flinching.”

“You already beat me with the hammer,” Emma groaned, rubbing her bruised shoulder. “Wasn’t that enough?”

“Suck it up, _pendejo_. Break my toys again and I’ll do more than throw my hammer at you.” Audrey stepped towards Emma. “Now take a seat so I so I can fix that gaping hole in your forearm. I won’t have you go to Old Alec and have him bend the materials like last time. Then, I really will be beheaded for murder.”

“Where’s the doc?” Emma grunted, plopping herself down on a nearby stepping stool. “I thought he’d be on your heels by now, trying and failing to stop you on your war path.”

“A few villages over – something about some poor girl being in labor. They sent for him yesterday, so he ought to be back before _ceilidh_ tonight.”

“They’re hosting a party at the castle?” Emma inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Queen Elinor must have failed to mention it, which was unlike her. Given that the Gathering was going to be held in the upcoming week they needed to spare all their supplies for the celebration of Merida and Elsa’s betrothal, which meant that this social gathering had nothing to do with the wedding or the clan.

Emma scowled, her lip pulling up into an unattracted snarl. She liked social gatherings from time to time, especially the Scottish way of partying. The Highlanders sure knew how to do their food, drink and women, and more importantly their dancing. _Especially_ their dancing. But what she _hated_ was the fact that along with Elinor’s unconditional love, came her insistence on teaching Emma the proper etiquette. She had taken it upon herself to become somewhat of a surrogate mother to her, which meant that not only did Merida and the boys suffer in their royal attire, Emma too was subjected to the torture of propriety.

She groaned long and hard, expressing her utter displeasure with the matter as the pieces fell into place. Leave it to the Queen to throw a celebration even when they were on the brink of war. It was her way of boosting morale and spirit, but also her less than subtle way of playing matchmaker. Emma had been subjected to it a staggering total of six times over the past few months she’d taken residence at the castle.

“Your mother is going to be thrilled,” Regina cackled, sounding far too pleased with herself at Emma’s grievances. “She’s always wanted to dress you for your first ball.”

“She’s going to have to stand in line.” Emma grunted, as Audrey’s spanner connected with the first of her bolts. “I’m certain Elinor’s already picked out what I’m going to wear this evening.”

“The whole family here, huh?” Audrey smirked, and with a swift twist her arm disconnected from her nervous system. Emma let out a hiss, gritting her teeth to try and ignore the pain. “Well, this ought to be interesting. I see a catfight coming on.”

Thinking back on how Regina had reacted the previous day to a simple misunderstanding that she and Elsa _might_ be together, she considered that it might not even be Elinor and Snow arguing over what dress Emma was going to wear. Suddenly, the reality of Regina tearing the heart out of any potential _suitor_ that Elinor misguidedly pawned off to her became all too real.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Emma groaned, dropping her head into her hand. “She’s gonna get us all _killed_!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, dear,” Regina waved away her protestation, with a reassuring, red-lipped smile. “Perhaps a party is all the others need to relax a little.”

Audrey looked at Emma like she _knew_ , her eyes twinkling with mischief and small, red horns glinting from in-between her brown locks. She had borne witness to countless of similar situations along with Merida and Sweets, finding each awkward and unsuccessful dalliance more entertaining than the last.

As Emma considered the blacksmith through the gaps of her fingers, she realized that this had to be the most amusing one yet. She was going to watch Emma sputter all night long, trying and failing to avoid conversation and dances with pretty noblewomen and other pretty maidens. It occurred to Emma that Audrey was a sadist.

“Well, I’ll see you later tonight,” Audrey stated, throwing Emma’s arm over her shoulder and retrieving the hammer that she had assaulted her earlier with. “I’ll have your spare ready by then, so you’ll at least be able to throw a couple of punches before you wreck that, too. Something tells me that Sweets should remain sober this evening.”

“You’re still a prick!” Emma called after her.

She flipped Emma the bird without a second’s hesitation. “ _Vete a freir esparragos._ ”

Emma narrowed her eyes, watching the smug sway of Audrey’s hips. She despised that the woman had better insults than her, always managing to come out on top during their trading of witticism or profanity. Even if it managed to keep Emma on her toes, reminding her of a time of apple cider and well-placed punches when she had needed it the most, Emma didn’t like losing.

“I like her,” Regina leaned over to inform her, pleased with herself at that fact. “She reminds me of when I was younger.”

“You mean _before_ you became the Evil Queen or after?” Regina rolled her eyes and gave Emma a shove. The blonde stumbled lightly, grinning sheepishly at the mock glare on the woman’s face.

“Well, we’d better finish up here if we’re going to make breakfast in time,” Regina said, stepping back over to her mare. “We both know how cranky you can get on an empty stomach.”

“I don’t even have an appetite anymore.” Emma rubbed her side self-consciously, already missing her prosthetic with an aching heart. She could see Regina’s eyes flickering towards it, flashing with pain, but she looked away as quickly as she had glanced. Neither of them mentioned it. “We don’t have _time_ to get drunk; we need to remain vigilant and be prepared for anything.”

“You’re only bitter because you’ll have to wear a dress for your mother’s benefit.” The teasing lilt in Regina’s voice serenaded into leniency. She stepped over to her, drawn in by the siren’s tune, and began helping her clean the rest of the horse. Emma told herself that it was just so that they could finish more promptly. “I don’t think I’ve ever even _seen_ you in one.”

“Sure you have,” Emma rolled her eyes, recalling flashes of bright begonia. “Remember my parents’ vow renewal thing last year? Where we both got so drunk that Granny had to call Snow to pick us up at the diner?”

“I remember. _Vividly_.” Regina rolled her eyes, trying to wipe any and all memory of it. “I remember the pirate showing up and getting a little too handsy. With _me_.”

“Then I socked him in the jaw, and he ignored me for an entire week.” Emma grinned, the phantom ache in her knuckles sparking the same sense of pride she had felt when Hook had hit the sidewalk, knocked out cold.

“We’d ended up on the beach, gazing at the stars until we fell asleep right there on the sand.” The fondness in Regina’s eyes ignited that tale old feeling Emma hadn’t known still existed. “That was the first night I’d truly felt whole after Robin had left.”

“That was the first night I realized that Killian and I should _definitely not_ be together.” Emma shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her feet. “He’s always been so disrespectful. Of my opinions and feelings. I don’t even know why I’d stayed with him as long as I did.”

“I can’t answer that for you, Emma.”

Emma’s mind conjured memories of finding courage to end the toxic relationship, only to think of how ‘happy’ her parents were that she found someone and how convinced Regina had been that her true love was with another woman, just beyond the town line. She remembered Neal’s old stuffy apartment and the absolute happiness that had sparked in Regina’s eyes when she’d finally seen Robin after months.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, and Regina looked at her with concern, “you can’t.”

Before Emma could make an absolute fool of herself, she turned and began to pack away the tools Regina had used.

* * *

Emma winced as she watched Merida flung her chair towards the nearest wall. Slivers of wood splintered across the floor, the horrible shattering sound echoing through the war chambers with a resonating groan. The roar of rage that followed made Emma think of Merida’s battle cry – ferocious and thundering – hiding away the fact that deep down she was _terrified_.

They were all terrified. Cautious and fearful of the Dark One and his Wild Hunt; enraged and troubled of King Arthur and his accursed Knights of the Round Table. The thought of invasion, the retellings of the horrors Emma had seen across the borders, threatened their very existence. Their way of life. Should _Eirdsidh_ or Arthur attack, their people, their clansmen, their wives, and children would be in serious peril.

These war conferences had been going on for as long as Emma had been at the castle, even before then. No decisions had been made, no plan of action brought onto the table, the only result arguments and tedious agreements that left tension in the air weeks after each conversation. Each time they reconvened upon Emma’s return; the situation had only gotten more dire.

The size of the armies at the borders of Dun Broch had only grown. Arthur’s desperation led him to massacre more and more people. _Eirdsidh_ always seemed to be more steps ahead of her than she could count, thinking of creative ways to outwit her and prevent her from finding anything that could help decipher the prophecy he kept spouting on and on about. Their enemy only grew stronger, more ruthless, and they were seated around a table, comparing the size of their loins.

“Merida,” Queen Elinor’s voice boomed, quieting the quarrelling under the lairds. “Now is not the time to let our anger get the best of us. We must discuss this with open and clear minds.”

“Discuss what, Mother?” The redhead scowled, slamming her hands down on the mahogany. The sound echoed through the chambers, resulting in shocked gazes from Scots and Storybrookers alike. “We’ve been talking and talking, sitting on our arses doing _nothing_. Either we turn up our noses, ignoring the problem until our enemy invades our lands, or we prepare for war.”

“The situation requires delicacy.”

“The _situation_ requires _coarseness_ , Mother. Did you not _hear_ Emma when she spoke of the naval army docked in Camelot’s ports? They’re planning to attack Arendelle, my betrothed’s land, our _allies_.”

“We don’t know this for certain.” Elinor gives her daughter an empathetic look, understanding swimming in her eyes. “This is difficult for all of us, but we must consider a peaceful solution.”

“The Queen is right, Merida,” Elsa insisted, rising from her seat to place a soothing hand on her betrothed’s bicep. She squeezed it softly, hoping to coax her into seeing reason. “Arthur is many things, but above all else he is a master in the art of war strategic. To attack would be playing directly into that barbarian’s hands.”

“With all due respect,” Emma’s interjection drew the audience attention towards her. Had she been the injured, baby faun she had been when she had first arrived, when Elinor had first asked her to attend the meetings, she would have faltered at the curious looks of her family and the hard indifference of the lairds. “Peace isn’t an option. _Eirdsidh_ will stop at nothing to get the power he seeks and King Arthur, who need I remind you also seeks the Philosopher’s Stone, wants my head on a platter. The last thing I wanted to do was burden you with my problems, but now that you’ve taken me under the protection of your clan, he will stop at nothing to make you pay for it.”

“Bollocks,” Merida hissed, tossing a dismissive hand into the air. “That bastard in Camelot has always wanted to invade Dun Broch. Those English pricks hate us as much as we hate them.”

“Aye,” MacGuffin acknowledged. “The redhaired lass speaks the truth. Even if my Lady Queen hadn’t offered Miss Swan stay in our land, Arthur would have struck arms against us for another reason. This just gives him an excuse.”

Elinor sighed, eyes defeated and tired, but forced her body language to main stiff and poised. She nodded her head in agreement, not about to argue a point that was correct on every front. Emma knew why the woman was reluctant to end the peace that had lasted for over twenty-years. It rested solely on her shoulders, she believed, feeling responsible for every second it lasted and continued to last. Going to war would be a diplomatic failure in her eyes, a result of her shortcomings.

“Well, I am open to suggestions,” she relented, looking out over the table. “If you have them, now would be the time to voice them.”

“I say we go to war,” Mackintosh declared, his voice thundering into the air. He rose from his chair, sending it crashing back onto the floor as his fist slammed on the table. “No more talk, no more dawdling, we settle this now! Crush them before they can even lift a finger our direction.”

“If we go to war before the alliance with Arendelle is solidified, we risk everything we’ve worked so hard to obtain,” Dingwall argued, rising to glare at the man. “Our men are fighting fit, but our navy is naught compared to the fleets of our enemy.”

“Standing around doing nothing will only encourage the invaders.” MacGuffin looked over to Elinor and Fergus. “My Lady Queen, your majesty, the enemy marches on our borders, readies their fleets, we have no other option left.”

Fergus’ gaze drifted to Emma’s, his sky-blue staring into the depths of her soul. She shifted uncomfortably under the intensity before he spoke, “What do you suggest we do, Emma? You’ve been there, seen more than any of us what the situation truly is like. What would you advise?”

All eyes drifted towards Emma again, but this time she could feel the tell-tale bubbling of nervousness in the pits of her stomach. She swallowed thickly, clearing her voice.

“I say we do neither.”

The King sat forward, leaning on the table as he watched her curiously. She could tell that she had shocked the others into silence. “Why do you say that?”

“King Arthur’s a cunning snake, but he still thinks I’m moving around Camelot. He doesn’t know I’m here, and I’ve made sure that he doesn’t sway from that belief. He’s currently tearing his own people apart, looking for me amongst the townspeople and villagers.”

“So, he’s too half-witted to realize you’ve allied yourself with us?” Merida inquired, intrigued by the revelation. “He’s not going to attack us. He would spare every resource to scour his own lands for you and that Philosopher’s Stone of yours.”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, feeling the smallest amount of pride at that fact. “He fears the Dark One just as much as we do, but more importantly he despises him. They’re not going to share information with each other because of this rivalry. They want the same thing – to fulfil Merlin’s prophecy and claim the throne of the Wild Hunt.”

“Very well,” Elinor motioned for her to continue. “But what of _Eirdsidh_ and his army? He knows that you’re here and will stop at nothing to reach you and Regina. You’ve told me this yourself.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see Regina shudder in horror. She couldn’t help the shrill that ran down her spine, the disgust and regret that knotted in her stomach.

“That’s true, _Eirdsidh_ believes that we’re somehow a part of this prophecy.” She paused, drumming her fingers thoughtfully. ‘But he’s still too weary to cross over into this land. Because of the—”

Emma stopped, her eyes widening in realization. She leapt out of her chair, excitement thrumming through every fibre of her being.

“The Witch!”

Elinor and Merida’s eyes widened at Emma, watching as she practically vibrated where she stood. They shared a bewildered look with one another, considering if Emma had lost her mind for the mention of the goggly old hag.

Fergus and the lairds were already convinced that she suffered from some kind on a head injury, speaking over herself without finishing her initial train of thought. Emma thought them to be bigots, judging her for her lack of decorum when they didn’t even know what the word fully meant.

“The Witch of Whittler Cottage,” Regina repeated, her eyes widening as she caught on to Emma’s train of thought. “Your story – you said she banished all with the same lustful ambition as _Mor’du_. She could be able to tell us more about the prophecy.”

“And maybe even the stone!” Emma exclaimed. “She’s been around for hundreds of years! She’s got to know something!”

“Oh, aye,” Merida nodded. “She would know of such strange things. Our best chance at deciphering it would lie with her.”

“That’s all and well,” Mackintosh scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But what does this mean for us? How will some folklore be able to stop the Dark One from marching on this land?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you – he _can’t_. Not until he finds a way to lift the spell. For the time being, not he or the Wild Hunt can touch us.” Emma’s eyes lit up at the thought. “If we can find the Witch, she could be able to tell us more about the prophecy, more about _Eirdsidh_ , perhaps even a way to stop him.”

“But what about the war?” MacGuffin grunted impatiently. “Stop with yer yammering and tell us your plan, lass!”

“We wait until the wedding, until the alliance with Arendelle is secured. Attacking before then will risk turning Elsa’s council against her and her house. Once Merida and Elsa are married, we can talk about war. For now, we gather the Clans, increase the borders’ defenses. If Arthur attacks before the wedding, we’ll be able to defend ourselves.”

“And you think this Witch will be able to help find a way to stop the Dark One?” Fergus asked. “You’re certain of this?”

“She’ll be able to give them answers,” Elinor reassured, touching a hand to his. She turned back to the women. “You’ll leave in the morning for the Ring of Stones to find the Witch.”

“Before dawn,” Emma insisted, the tips of her fingers tingling. “She’ll be able to help us. I can feel it.”

“Very well, then.” The Queen turned towards the clansmen. “My Lairds, how soon will your men be able to arrive?”

Mackintosh glanced at the others, sharing a meaningful look before answering, “A week at most, my Lady Queen. The earliest would be in three days’ time.”

“Excellent.” She stood, clasping her hands together. “Make whatever arrangements necessary, and we’ll reconvene in two days’ time. You’re free to leave.”

The lairds bowed to their King and Queen, disappearing into the hallway. The others moved to follow, the dwarves muttering something about not having had a proper breakfast, and Emma considered the fact that they hadn’t eaten at all. Mostly because they were apparently horrible morning people without alarm clocks to wake them early enough for the first meal of the day.

Elinor took the opportunity to address them before they could make off for their morning tasks. “Just a moment, I’d like to discuss an urgent matter with you all.”

Grumpy and Happy shared a look with one another, nudging each other in the ribs, and before Elinor could continue, piped up in unison, “We found that urn like that!”

Snow facepalmed at their antics as bewildered eyes looked over at them, a soft, labored sigh escaping her. Emma couldn’t help the amused snicker that gurgled in her throat when she noticed Regina’s haughty glare sent their way.

“No, you dingus,” Merida chuckled at their panicked expressions. “She’s inviting you to _ceilidh_.”

“It’s a celebration, almost like a ball,” Emma explained. “We get to dance and eat, listen to old folktales and music. So, you get to dress up and stuff.”

Grumpy nudged Happy and Doc respectively, “Oh, see, told you we should come. Look what we’ve been missing out on.”

“I like any party I don’t have to cater,” Granny admitted, a relieved smile gracing her lips.

“So do we,” Grumpy murmured under his breath.

“Then it’s settled then!” Elinor released an excited giggle, pleased with their enthusiasm. “The celebrations will start at dusk, so there will be plenty of time to prepare.”

Emma’s eyes caught Elinor and Snow’s gazes, respectively. She winced at their dreamy eyes, noticing the same excitement there. She had no doubt what the two women were scheming, nor did she doubt that neither of them had any idea what was going through the other woman’s mind.

A lifetime of foster homes and when she’s a fully-grown woman in her own right she gets two overbearing mothers.

Merida, while grumbling at the thought of being subjected to a night of dancing with her two left feet, noticed the dilemma as well. She was all too pleased with the fact that, even though her mother was going to fawn over her before _ceilidh_ , all the attention would be directed at Emma.

* * *

“It’s _not_ funny,” Emma argued, glaring at her laughing companions. She gripped the axe in her hand until her knuckles turned a sickly pale. The squeak of the spare automail echoed in her ear, and she wondered if Audrey would refrain from throwing her with another hammer if she asked when the repairs would be finished.

As much as she loved the little family she had found in the Highlands, especially Elsa’s familiar company, she despised that they all acted like the asshole siblings she never had. Often, she wished that she could strangle each of them respectively, or perhaps run them through with her sword.

She’d wanted a few moments of privacy, mostly because she knew that the second that she went even remotely in the direction of her room, she was going to be swarmed by handmaidens and two equally authoritative Queens. She had no interest in being shoved into a gown, especially not when it would emphasize the fact that she _shouldn’t_ be caught dead in one.

So, as an escape, she’d gone down to the fields to clear her head, helping the farmers with the last of the work for the evening. For the past hour she had been repairing farming equipment, loading supplies for the morning trip to the castle, chopping wood, and spending every second she could in the cold, wet and muddy weather that only Dun Broch could offer. Surprisingly, manual labor helped clear her head the most.

At least, it _did_ , until the four assholes showed up.

“Och, dinnae kid yourself, lass,” Merida shoved at her, nearly sending her face first into the dirt. “I’m just glad my mother leaves me to the mercy of my wife nowadays.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Elsa reminded teasingly. “Just wait until we’re truly married, then we’ll see if you’re as pleased with that fact as I will be.”

Emma couldn’t help but smirk at the pout that tugged at Merida’s lips, the rest of the group howling in their laughter. It served her right, the redheaded nitwit.

Shaking her head as she watched Audrey and Sweets pat the young heir with mocked sympathy, nearly shoving her off the cart they were seated on, she brought the axe down hard on the piece of wood she had placed in the center of the tree stump. Emma took great satisfaction in the way the wood split in half, right down the middle, cracking and splintering under the force of the sharpened blade. She tossed the perfectly evened firewood aside and reached for the next log in the pile.

“I’m just saying that because I’m betrothed, Mother sees no need in offering me suitors up on a silver platter with wide, pleading and insistent eyes.” Merida scoffed, shoving Sweets against his chest. “She’s become mellow over the years, never one to force things on me anymore, but she cannae take a hint.”

“She’s like my mother. Only problem is now there’s two them and I find it almost impossible to say ‘no’ to one of them.”

“Yours or mine?”

Emma shrugged, feeling a prickle of guilt when she began to speak. As much as she loved her mother – truly loved her – there was often too much pain rooted between them. She would always be the child they had abandoned, the child that they just couldn’t keep because they had an entire kingdom to save, and Emma would always resent them for that.

“I love David and Snow,” she admitted, refusing to look up into her friend’s inquiring gaze, “I really do, but… I don’t know. Your mom’s just scarier, so she wins.”

“Och, you’re so full of it.” Merida leapt off the edge of the cart to toss a fist of dirt Emma’s way, laughing when the blonde sputtered. “My mother may be scary, but you’re lily-livered.”

The blonde wiped at her dirtied complexion, mock-glaring at the mighty pleased look on the Scot’s face. Instead of rising to the challenge, she lets the insult pour off her back like water. It was easier to think about all the ways she could get revenge later when no-one was around to stop her. Try as they might, Elsa would step in before things got too physical.

“That’s quite enough, Mer,” the Queen warned, raising an eyebrow her way. “We both know what happens when you and Emma get into it.”

“Eh! That happened _one time_!”

“One time is enough to have it engraved into our minds,” Audrey scoffed, smacking the back of Merida’s head. “You burnt down half the camp.”

Emma rolled her eyes, pausing to lean on her axe’s head. “Are you gonna hold that against us for the rest of our lives?”

“Until the day that we die,” Sweets added helpfully.

The main topic that they were teasing her about now, her and Merida comical misadventures aside, was the fact that Elinor and Snow had teamed up to prepare her for _ceilidh_. It was another reason why she had fled the castle in search of solace. Every corner she had turned there had been a handmaiden or some other servant informing her that they were looking for her. So, she had done the only logical thing and fled out the nearest window, hoping that neither Henry nor Regina would come looking for her.

Emma wasn’t the type to dress up for these kinds of things. In all the time that she had been at the castle, she had managed to either avoid the celebrations by hiding in the stables or she would be off some or other trip into Camelot. She didn’t do dresses, especially not the ones that Elinor and her mother desperately wanted her to prance around in. She had already suffered through one ball with Hook of all people, tripping over her two left feet in incommodious attire. Emma could count on both hands the amount of time she’d stepped on the blasted dress.

She sighed, the axe’s smooth and precise swinging no longer helping relieve her of the headache she had since the start of her morning. It slipped, and she accidently imbedded it into the wood askew. The groan that escaped her mouth seemed to bring an end to her friends’ laughter, causing them to look up at her worriedly. She caught their eyes, noticing how they watched her facial expressions like hawks, and she released another groan.

“ _What_?”

“Does yer sour mood only result from yer aversion to my mother’s taste?” Merida asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Or is there perhaps something beneath the surface – something else that’s bothering ye?”

“No.”

“Your left eyebrow moved,” Elsa pointed out. “You’re lying to us.”

“Oh, my god! Can’t I have five minutes without being psycho-analyzed?” Emma huffed, ramming the axe clean through the log. “I don’t… I just don’t want to think about it right now. Not Arthur or _Eirdsidh_ , or anything else. I just… I want to clear my head so that I can enjoy myself tonight and this—” she motioned between them, “—is _so_ not helping.”

“I take it the fact that the Queen and your mother want to play dress up doesn’t help either?” Audrey questioned sympathetically. “You can tell them ‘no’, you know? I don’t think they’ll be offended.”

Merida barked out a laugh, the sound echoing through the open field. “You dinnae ken my mother.”

“Or _mine_.”

“Well, you’re going to have to come up with _something_.” Elsa fixed her with a pointed look, one that suggested that she would accept no argument on the matter. “This is the first time we’ll actually be able to spend some time together before the rush of the gathering and the wedding, and you’re not going to spend all evening pouting because you have no idea how to properly walk in your clothing.”

“I _don’t_ know how to walk in a dress, especially one that’s dragging on the ground.” Emma walked over to her friends, plopping herself down in between Merida and Elsa. She draped herself across them, kicking the redhead in the ribs before plopping her head down into the blonde’s lap. “How am I gonna get out of this?”

Merida’s eyes lit up, sparkling as she patted Emma’s knee. “I may have an idea.”

Emma raised her head, “Does it involve a dress?”

“ _Technically_ , no.”

“Then, I’m all ears.”


End file.
